


worthLESS

by Ark666



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: And change - Freeform, Biting, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nonconsentual makeout, Science, Self-Acceptance, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, for me anyways, more tags to come, not everyone is an asshole, perseverance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-10-24 21:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ark666/pseuds/Ark666
Summary: Arthur catches scarlet fever and loses his vision from the fever, and now he feels worthless.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha now I have 4 series to work on along with classes. Why do I hate myself. (Because it seemed like a good idea at the time). 
> 
> Comments and kudos are my lifeforce.

He was to scope out Valentine with the others, but when he got to the bar Bill had decided that he wanted to get into a fight. After his fight with Tommy he decided to run into the clinic a couple of doors down. Narrowly, he avoided Dutch and the half ass Trelawny. However, when he got inside he was greeted to the sight of a lot of sick childeren and teens. A few adults as well, but that's besides the fact. 

The room was overflowing. 

A hand grabbed his forearm. Arthur quickly turned his head to see the doctor who was panicked. Despite being an outlaw he softened up to the doctor’s panicked look. “I’ll treat you for free if you help me,” the doctor offered. 

“Sure,” Arthur slurred and shook the grateful doctor’s hand. The doctor motioned to a bowl of water and a washcloth.

“Please clean up quickly and come find me when you’re done,” Doing as he was told to do Arthur washed up. This would give him a better reputation in the small livestock town after his brawl. After using the questionable supplies he went and helped the doctor out. 

Turned out that it was scarlet fever that struck the town. It hadn’t come through the area in quite some time. The doctor said that the person that usually helps him out had been put out of work because of his TB diagnosis. 

Arthur being curious asked him about the disease:

(According to the CDC website)

¼ of the globe is infected with the disease, however most will never develop active tuberculosis. This is because it’s usually ONLY people with a compromised immune system (Arthur nearly dying of septic shock) will develop active TB. Illness (cough cough septic shock), children, elderly, and (people who are HIV positive, have AIDS, people on chemo or other immunosuppressive drugs) are at elevated risk of developing active TB. Roughly 5% of those who are infected will develop symptoms in their lifetime. (1.25% of the world population roughly) It IS one of the world’s deadliest diseases (that first world countries forget about due to the miracle of vaccinations and antibiotics because we science the shit out of formally incurable diseases that used to murder millions). (**side note there are antibiotic resistant strains of TB that exist). It’s one of the most highly infectious diseases that exists in the world. Able to spread just by standing next to someone because you’re sharing the same breath. It’s just that the body does such a fucking damn good job at protecting itself that (you) may never develop active TB. (Ok I’m done with my rant of the day. My roommates abandoned me for the weekend in a blizzard so now I don’t have anyone to talk med stuff and politics with)

The doctor gave him some tonic and treated the cut on his face and sent him on his way. He also got a few freebie treatments for later because the cheapskate didn’t want to give him money up front. After the short ride back to camp Dutch yanked him aside. 

“Where the hell have you been Arthur!” the older man spat venomously. In Dutch’s defense he was kind of relying on Arthur a lot to get shit settled. 

“I went to the doc after my fight to get something for my cuts, but ended up having to play nurse because a whole lotta children are sick. Got a few free trips to the doc indebted to me though,” he rubbed his neck nervously. 

“Well, I suppose it made up for the commotion you made, but don’t do it again,” Dutch quickly conjured up. “Goodnight Mr. Morgan.” The older man turned away and left him where he was. Sometimes Arthur would kill to know what was going on in that mind of his. 

He did not mean to sleep in this long when Susan and Dutch started yelling at him to wake up. The yelling woke him up, but not enough to care. Continuing to lay there still. The two barged into his tent and opened it up and continued to yell at him to wake the fuck up already. Arthur lazily opened his eyes. It had to have been around noon, how Dutch let him sleep in this long was unknown to him. 

“Get up Arthur!!! You need to go help break Sean out, Mr. Strauss, go hunting with Hosea, interrogate Kieran, break Micah out, and take Uncle into town!” Dutch exclaimed. Isn’t anyone else qualified to do shit around here? Arthur groaned and rolled to face the wagon. His throat was sore and he was exhausted like he hadn’t slept at all. Realization struck him like a bullet. He’d never caught scarlet fever when he was younger. 

Big ooofff. 

“Mr. Morgan I have half a mind ta-“ Susan touched his shoulder to get him to move, but stopped and felt his forehead. “Shit…” Dutch touched his forehead as well. 

“Damn it you managed to get yourself sick didn’t you?” Dutch pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. Arthur's face was flushed and pale at the same time. “Guess I have to make the others do his work. A lot of it’s time sensitive. Take care of him will you.” He commanded Susan and left. 

“Don’t worry Mr. Morgan I’ll take good care of you,” she tucked his blanket over him before leaving to get him some soup and water. He jolted when he heard her shrill voice yelling. “GIRLS GO GET A BUCKET, A BUCKET OF WATER, AND A RAG AND BRING IT TO MR. MORGAN’S TENT!!!”


	2. LESS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur awakens from his illness and is forced to go fishing with Abigail and Jack. However, trouble ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow two chapters in two days, I’m doing good for once. I should work on my laptop and not my phone to type though.

The fever consumed his mind from then on. All he knows is that his fever is really bad and the Reverend is sitting next to him reading while what he thinks is the doctor treating. He faintly hears Dutch, but he can barely see at all. More dead than alive it seemed. What he can hear is Dutch yelling, “How the hell did he catch a children's illness as an adult!!!” Arthur saw the sun setting right before the fever took back over again. 

Arthur woke up and sat up stretching his arms out. He opened his eyes. It must be after everyone went to bed because it’s pitch black out. “Dutch? Hosea?” He called out. The man could not wait to be out of his bed and to take a solo trip out again, but to write and sketch in his journal would be bliss. Footsteps grew louder as they came to him. 

“My son you’re awake. I was worried that we’d be having to put you out of your misery,” Hosea said to him lovingly and gave him a surprise hug. 

“Can you light up a lantern it’s too dark out for me to see?” Arthur asked him confused. How did Hosea manage to see at all in this? Hosea frowned and covered his mouth. He held his hand in front of Arthur’s wondering eyes. No response to them. This was going to be the most difficult thing he’d ever have to say to someone that’s kin to him. 

“Son…” his voice quivered. “It’s the late morning, almost noon. I think that the fever took your sight.” 

Arthur blinked furiously. “You’re lying!” His voice cracked painfully. “It has to be night, it has to be…” Cries threatened to spill over into sobs. Hosea snatched him up in his arms and rocked him slightly as he cried it out. His own tears trickled down his face. 

“Maybe the doctor in Valentine or in Saint Denis can help you?” Hosea tried even though he knew that was hopeless. 

He would never be able to read again,  
He would never be able to write again,  
He would never be able to draw again,  
He would never be able to ride alone again,   
He would have to rely on others to help him. 

“Thank god he’s awake,” Susan walked over. Hosea shot her his face of sadness. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Get Dutch, for me Ms. Grimshaw,” he requested of her. As per a request Dutch was over to him almost immediately. Hosea got up and walked off a few feet to talk in private of Arthur. 

“What’s going on with him now?” Dutch asked concerned stealing glances of Arthur who is very much mourning himself. 

“He’s...he’s blind Dutch. The fever and the rash is gone, but it took his vision,” Hosea lamented. He and Dutch practically raised Arthur and John. The two were the kids he never had with Bessie. Dutch pushed past Hosea and sat down on the chair next to Arthur’s cot. The man in question turned to the noise, but didn’t register who it was. 

“Hosea?” He asked Dutch who then took Arthur’s hand. 

“No, it’s me son,” Dutch soothingly rubbed Arthur’s hand. Arthur was on the verge of a panic attack from what he’d learned a few minutes ago. 

“Why’d this happen to me? I can’t do anything anymore. I wish that the fever woulda killed me,” Dutch squeezed his hand reassuringly to keep him from edging over. 

“Don’t say that you can still do a lot of things, and this could’ve happened to anyone,” Arthur didn’t believe one thing that came out of Dutch’s mouth. In his mind he was worthless now. He couldn’t see so how could he help the camp. His role was dependent on sight. 

Arthur sighed and rolled away from Dutch on instinct. He didn’t matter now if he could see Dutch, but he wanted to hide himself from the older man. “...” Arthur didn’t respond at all to Dutch’s presence. 

“I’m gonna go grab you a bowl of soup and after you eat you’re going to get your ass out of bed before you become part of it,” Dutch commanded getting up from his seat. After he got out of earshot he sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. Hosea came back up to him. “What do we do?”

“Try to make him still feel valid I suppose,” Hosea started but decided not to continue. All he did was just stare at his feet until Dutch left. They both didn’t know what the hell they were going to do. This wasn’t something they ever thought that would ever to happen to anyone in the gang. As the leaders they’d have to think up of something. 

Keep Micah from being a total dick, also Bill. Earning his keep they’d say. It might be time for Karen to step up in the gang. She’d be more than happy to leave and really carve her name in the area. Uncle would be the most understanding person. He’d teach Arthur the art of day drinking and ‘thinking’. 

Grabbing the soup from the pot he walked back to Arthur’s tent. He set the bowl down on the table and tapped Arthur’s shoulder. The younger man threw the blanket higher up on him to evade talking. “Sit up Arthur!” Dutch commanded earning him a groan. “Get up!” He then ripped the blanket away and forced him to sit up. Arthur grumbled crossing his legs to be more comfortable. 

“Why are you doing this?” Arthur groaned. “Just let me die like the old dogs do when they’re old and sick.”

“Because you need to eat. You haven’t been eating very much when you were sick,” Dutch completely ignored Arthur’s second sentence. “Hold out your hands, I’m going to put the soup bowl in your left hand.”

“Fine…” Arthur grumbled something inaudible to the older man. Dutch carefully set the bowl in his left hand. 

“Careful it’s steaming and about ¾ full. Now I’ll set the spoon in your right so that you can eat,” he placed the spoon in his right hand. Begrudgingly Arthur began to eat. Part of him hoped that this would end Dutch’s harping on him. All he wanted to do was mourn himself in bed...forever. 

The hardest thing for him was that he wouldn’t be able to ride alone again. The air in his face, the sights of untouched lands, and the freedom that came with it. He enjoyed sketching what he saw. At this rate he’d have to pick up a new hobby if he wasn’t allowed to die. 

He set the spoon in the bowl when he was done and held it forward to where he thought Dutch was. Sayin nothing Dutch leaned and grab it. 

“Hey Arthur you mind taking Jack fishing now that you’re awake?” Abigail came up to the tent to ask. 

“I’m not really able to see anymore…” awkwardness hung heavy in the air. Abigail shifted, Dutch held a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, and Arthur scratched the back of his head. 

“You can still help him by telling him what to do, and I’ll come along too. I could uhh...learn a thing or two,” Abigail suggested to him. Dutch sat the bowl down and stood up clasping his hands together.

“That’s a perfect idea!” Dutch exclaimed hauling Arthur off the bed. 

“Dutch!!!!!” Arthur complained letting himself be dead weight. 

“You’ve played dead long enough now go do something fun,” he helped dress Arthur with Abigail. Mandatory forced activities was on the agenda for Arthur to get him to leave his cot. Bitching and moaning they got him dressed and ready to go. Dutch put on his gun belt with the revolver just in case he needed to intimidate someone. 

Soon he, Abigail, and Jack were walking down to the river below camp. Abigail helped him by taking his arm to help guide him. It had been awhile since he’d gone fishing. For the most part there wasn’t too much to see anyways. When they all got down to the river he taught Jack how to bate and cast his rod. 

The river sounded calm today. He could hear the rush of the water and how it hit along the rocks in its path. The small rustling of the leaves where the wind brushed up against it. Leaves in the wind and the water on the rocks. The smell of sap and fresh spring water. Beauty in the smaller things. 

“Uncle Arthur I caught one!” Jack squealed with delight reading in the fish. “Is this one good?” 

“Lemme see,” Arthur touched the fish for a moment to see how big it was. “A little bit small, but it’s a good start to feeding the camp.” Abigail smiled in the background picking some herbs for Person. 

“Look mommy!!!” Jack ran off with his fish. Grinning Arthur focused back on feeling his rod in the river. No tugging quite yet. He remembered being Jack’s age and catching fish with his father before he passed. Unlike his father he praised Jack for throwing back in a small fish. His own father had beaten him for that when he was young. 

An unfamiliar crunch leaves sends Arthur to stand up and cast his fishing pole aside. He pulled out his revolver and took a few steps forward. His foot caught on a rock and got sent sailing into the ground. The sound became more defined into footsteps. 

“Mr. Morgan?” A voice called out. He heard Abigail shuffling Jack behind her. What he didn’t know what that a hand was being outstretched to him. “I’m agent Milton and this is agent Ross we’re from the Pinkerton detective agency. Let me help you up?” 

Somehow Arthur managed to grab Mr. Milton’s hand without revealing himself. “Thank you, but what do you want?” Arthur asked unaware that he was looking in the slightly wrong direction. Mr. Milton took note of the odd behavior. 

“I’m here to make a proposition to you Arthur Morgan. You’re the typical street rat taken in by a quick silver tongue snake to turn degenerate murderer. Are you aware of the 5,000 dollar bounty on you?” Mr. Milton said dryly like he was bored and just wanted out of there. Arthur cracked a smile and chuckled. 

“5,000, can I turn myself in?” He joked with the agents. Annoyed Agent Milton dipped his head to cover up his eye roll. 

“That’s not why I’m here today,” he picked Arthur’s revolver up off the ground and held it out to Arthur. “I’m here to offer you your freedom in return for your leader Dutch Van Der Linde.” He started shaking the gun in front of Arthur’s face. 

“I’m not going to do that so high tail out of here!” Arthur commanded going for his holster. When his hand reached the empty holster he widened his eyes in shock. Now confirmed with what he thought Agent Milton crossed his arms still holding the revolver. 

“When?” He asked the outlaw. In the corner of his eye he saw Abigail looking like she was about to take off and abandon her companion in favor of saving her son. 

“I’m not sure, but it was a fever very recently,” Arthur sighed resigned. 

“Even if you don’t cooperate now you’re too much of an invalid to hang in my opinion. This revolver is now mine,” Agent Milton and Ross turned away to leave. Arthur stumbling and swinging over to them pitifully screaming for his revolver. 

It was a gift for his 16th birthday. The nicest thing he’d ever received in his life up until that point, minus the education he got from Hosea and Dutch. His gun. It was his. A symbol of freedom to him. Like his sight it was taken away. They laughed at him as they walked off. 

Too distraught to follow with Abigail she left him there to go get on of the men back at camp. She came back with Javier and Uncle. The old drunk mentioned in attempt to cheer him up for him to teach him to take up day drinking like himself. Javier hummed lightly in an attempt to sooth him. When they reached camp Arthur stumbled and broke through things until he found the booze. 

“If you wanted booze you coulda just asked me Arthur,” Uncle rubbed the back of his neck. Ignoring him Arthur downed the bottle of whiskey and took another one to go with him. Unfortunately Arthur didn’t find his way back to his tent before he was blackout drunk. There wasn’t too many people at camp, but his behavior was typical of when he was drunk. 

Eventually everyone would find out, or he’d have to tell them all. 

Singing Ring-Dang-Doo with Reverend at Pearson’s wagon others who didn’t know wondered what made him do that. Reverend after the song bear hugged Arthur too fast knocking them both to the ground. “I read you your last rights the other day Mr. Morgan. We all thought that you were going to die,” reverend spoke getting up and pulling Arthur up with him. 

“Wish I did,” Arthur said pretty much for the 5th time today. 

“If god won’t let me die, then he won’t let you,” Reverend went to go get another drink leaving Arthur to his own devices. 

He feels so alone. He wonders around alone. He thinks alone. Laying down on the ground he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Later that evening Dutch found him in the woods curled up with a bottle of whiskey in his arms. He picked him up off of the ground and put him in his cot. Gently the older man brushed a stray hair away from Arthur’s face, and pulled his blanket up around him. 

Once Dutch was done there Abigail went up to him and updated him on the situation. “I’ll come up with a plan. I always do,” Dutch crossed his arms in deep thought. 

“You always do, goodnight,”


	3. Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan puts Arthur to work while others are out of the camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably won't end up having another chapter until next weekend unless I'm not doing my schoolwork.

Arthur woke up with a splitting headache in the morning. He didn’t want to move. On the brightside, he didn’t have to worry about it being too light out since he was totally blind. That was the one plus in his mind. He vomited off the side of his cot. Faintly he heard someone say goddamn it.

The person came by and cleaned up the puke and left him to his hangover. Susan decided to come over with a bowl of soup and a glass of water. She spoon fed him and made him drink some of the water. Happy with her work she patted his head and walked off to tend to the rest of the camp. 

Later that day Susan came back over to his tent and fed him some more food. She wanted to nurse him back to health after nearly dying. He was very thin after not eating for several weeks. Slowly but surely she’ll make sure he’s ok physically. She’d yelled at Uncle for letting him drink in the state that he’s in mentally right now. Tucking him in again she left satisfied. 

The next day she forced him to sit up and feed himself. “You’ll feel better soon enough,” she lovingly stroked his arm. His face turned sad as he ate. 

“It doesn’t feel like I’ll ever feel better,” Arthur admitted taking another bite of the soup. Susan sighed and went to rub his back reassuringly. 

“You’ve only been awake for a few days it’s going to take you some time. I’ll find you some work around camp to do. You can always help person cook. He’s been looking for someone to help him for quite some time,” she suggested. “He could handle the knife work for the most part and you can manage the other stuff. You could also take up the role of camp burden/ storyteller. It would force Uncle out of that role, and we could use to have some new stories.”

“I don’t want to do anything,” he finished his food. 

“Come with me,” she took the bowl and his arm and led him to the kitchen. “Mr. Person, Mr. Morgan is now your new assistant, and if I hear you treating him wrong so help me god I’ll kill you myself. You’d make a better meal then what you’ve been making.” 

“Alright Arthur the first thing..” 

Arthur zoned out into the work in deep thought. 

How am I to contribute anything to the camp like this. I’m not working to my potential. I should be out there hunting, robbing, anything other than helping to make soup for the camp. We already have a cook. They’re all going to see me as an invalid when all find out that I can’t see anymore. Dutch can’t rely on me anymore. I can’t be the first or even the last pick for a job like this. If I was a women the most I could do like this is spread my legs for money. Why didn’t I die from the fever? Why did it only take my sight and not my life? Is this a cruel joke? Retribution for what I’ve done? Nothing I can do will bring back my sight. 

He picked up the knife and cut the vegetables like he was told. 

I want to slit my wrists so bad right now. They burn and hurt so bad because I want to do it so badly. I’d even stab myself if it would mean ending this pain. There is that knife in my stuff back in my tent… I could use that while everyone is asleep and nobody would notice until morning when they go to wake me up. Then I wouldn’t be a burden anymore. 

“Ms. Grimshaw get everything packed up and ready to go now!!!” Dutch’s booming voice yelled while he rode into camp with some of the men. 

“I’ll pack up Arthur just get ready to go,” Pearson patted his shoulder. Taking a seat by the fire while the hustle and bustle went on around him sparked the interest in some of his unknowing gang members. 

“Why the hell you ain’t helping?!” Bill angrily asked with what Arthur assumed more than one person around him. Arthur sighed heavily and held his head in his hands and leaned down into his legs. 

“M’blind,” Arthur announced to the camp. 

“How the hell you gonna earn your keep cowpoke unless you’re gonna be spreading your legs and getting down on your knees from now on,” Micah berated him yanking at his hair painfully. Arthur growled annoyed. The cock of a shotgun startled everyone around. 

“I’d advise that you leave Mr. Morgan alone if you plan on continuing to breath Mr. Bell,” Susan threatened Micah. Now he was smart enough to know that the shotgun was pointed directly at Micah and that Susan meant business. The woman doesn’t play around very much at all. 

“Fine I’ll leave him alone. This would’ve been sadder than when I beat Mr. Downes to death the other day. I had to jump into the lake after that to get all the blood off of me,” Micah scoffed letting Arthur go. 

The rest of the move went without a hitch for Arthur. Part of him was glad that he wasn’t able to see everyone’s pity and ‘secretive’ conversations about him. Hosea moved into Arthur’s tent in the new camp. He knew what that was about. They didn’t want him committing suicide in his tent. Of course they knew because it would be the first thought of most of the camp if they were blinded as well. 

Day after day he helped pearson until Karen, Bill, and Lenny pulled him aside for an offer. Karen had been the one to pull him aside from kitchen duty. “Hey Arthur we need someone to distract the bank in Valentine so that we can rob it. You think you could crack the vaults as well?” She gave her nice higher pitched voice. Her arm around his and her body close enough to his face that he could feel the heat radiate off of her. 

“Why not,” he agreed glancing off out of habit. “It’ll get me out of here for a bit.” Karen squealed with delight and went to go inform the others in the heist. 

Soon they were off on their horses, minus Arthur who rode with Bill. He held onto the big man’s waist as he guided the animal. Getting a little moment to rest he laid his head on Bill’s back. Unarmed for it Arthur could pass off more as a forced member of push came to shove. Besides it would be quite dangerous for him to wield a weapon in a crowded room of people, let alone comrades. 

“I wish I was able to see,” Arthur grumbled. 

“The plan relays on your abilities of not being able to see. I bet you are more able to concentrate on working the safes open now then before. Oh yeah you’re going to need to get their attention on you before we come in for the robbery,” Lenny informed him. 

“You’ll be fine Morgan. They won’t hang you even if they capture you. The most they’d do is make you go to church for ‘masturebating yourself blind’” Bill reassured him. 

“In regards to that Bill you’d be blind a thousand times over in the time I’ve known you,” Karen roasted him earning stifled laughs from the other two. 

“Whatever Karen lets just make it to the bank,” Bill gruffly mumbled. The four kept quiet the rest of the ride there. 

Outside the bank Karen was pawing over Arthur’s appearance. She made him look slightly more disheveled for the act. He was to go in confused and walk into things and basically pretend to not know where he is. This part of the plan was manageable for him. She let him go in a silent agreement to start the robbery. 

He walked straight into the door causing a bloody nose. Karen almost blew their cover by snickering. Well at least it completed the look. Eventually he found the doorknob. Taking a step inside he tripped op the frayed rug. 

“My god! Are you okay son?” The guard care over and helped him to his feet. 

“Sorry I’m just looking for my friend he said that he’d be here,” he walked up to the counter. “Can I get a shot of whiskey.” He raises up his arm flagging down the non existent bartender. 

“Sir this is the bank. The bar is on the other side of the street, but I think you’ve already had enough,” the teller told him. The security guard grabbed ahold of his arm and slung it over his shoulder.

“I’ve been sober for weeks. I just need to get to my friend,” Arthur grabbed ahold of the counter demandingly. The rest of the group decided that was the moment to enter the bank. 

“Stick em up! This is a robbery!” Karen announced taking charge for everyone. The guard was easy to disarm since he still had ahold of Arthur. Bill took Arthur and led him to the back room and put his hand on the lock to open. 

“Once you open up this one I’ll help ya to the next,” Bill told him. Luckily it was as easy to do as before and he opened it pretty quickly. 

The rest of the robbery went without a hitch until the getaway. Somebody must have saw or heard something because as soon as they left the bank they started getting shot at. Being a bit panicked the others forgot to tell Arthur where the porch ended, and he went sailing into the mud. 

Bill stopped and helped pick Arthur up. This time leading Arthur by his waist rather than by his hand. When they got to the horse the man lifted Arthur up onto the horse done with inconveniences from his sight. Overall the robbery was a success. The four surprised by how much money they successfully stole from the bank. Hooting and hollering all the way back to camp. Each member’s cut was just about a thousand each. Perhaps Arthur could bribe the agents for his revolver back. 

The camp cheered for them as they rode back into camp. Susan took ahold of Arthur to clean him up. The blood and mud didn’t look too comforting that he wasn’t hurt. Letting him go he joined in the celebration at camp by following the sounds of singing. Dutch handed him a bottle of beer and helped him sit down by the fire. 

All of this just in time to sing Celindo Lindo. 

“See you can still do things,” Dutch told him after the song. The blinded man could feel the heat of the fire radiating to him. Today in general was warm, and not just in the physical sense. He felt good mentally for the first time in awhile. 

“I still miss riding alone, but it did feel good to be out of the camp,” Arthur smiled, Dutch laughed and clasped his shoulder reassuringly. 

“You could’ve said that sooner. I’ll find somewhere moderately safe where you can ride with some supervision,” he promised. 

“You better,” Arthur smiled.


	4. This is how we treat others different from ourselves.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch takes Arthur to Saint Denis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact I can barely smell. I can smell toxic substances like alcohol, but not anything normal. 
> 
> I’m accident prone and this week I gave myself whiplash. It was so bad that I thought I slipped a disk or worse...much worse. It fucking hurt, badly.

His good mood didn’t last into the next day. He may have managed to not be hungover, but the depression came back quickly. This wasn’t the first time that he was too depressed to get out of bed. In the few weeks at the last camp he had days where Pearson picked him up out of bed to work, today would be no different from then. Sometimes when he’d sit down he’d fall asleep sitting. His sleep was off completely. He’d be awake at night and falling asleep during the day despite doing everything correctly to prevent this from happening. 

Footsteps came over to his tent. “Go away Pearson,” Arthur rolled over to avoid the cook. 

“I don’t think I sound much like him Arthur,” Dutch said walking into the tent and sitting down on Hosea’s bed. “Anyways I’m here to ask you if you wanted to go to Saint Denis to get a cane and some good food. The cane would help you get around easier so you don’t have to completely guess where you’re walking all the time.”

“Fine,” Arthur agreed and let Dutch help him get up and dressed properly enough to match. 

The Count was happy to see her owner and associate. The older man climbed up first and then took Arthur’s hand to help him up. “Here you go, you good?” He asked the younger man as he settled into sitting. 

“Peachy,” Arthur quietly said wrapping his arms around Dutch’s waist. Frowning slightly Dutch let that go and commanded the horse to go. 

Now Dutch was never a fan of the bayou and he sped up the horse through that shithole of an area. In his mind there were three types of people that lived there; the stupid, the murders, and the rapists. Within a matter of a couple hours they made it out of the bayou and into the shithole of a city. 

Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of soot, shit, and other pollutants, “We’re just about in the city now I assume from the smell.”

“You’d win the bet on that one,” Dutch smiled with a faint chuckle. In the city Dutch slowed the count down because if he went faster that what was socially accepted he’d be yelled at by what those new horseless carriage people for speeding. 

After finding where he wanted to take Arthur to he hitched the horse at the post and helped Arthur off of off the horse. Arthur clutched at his arm in the area foreign to him. He led Arthur through a door. The younger man wished that he knew where he was and what was around him. It irritates him that he doesn’t know at all where he is. 

“How may I help you gentlemen?” A young woman asks them. 

“We’re here to see the doctor about his sight,” Dutch told the young woman. 

“Through that door,” she told them. The place reeked of more alcohol than a bar. Better than the one in Valentine. Dutch carefully led him to the room and set him down in the patient’s chair. 

They waited for what felt like awhile. The two bullshitted about the time that Hosea and them had to run away in drag. Arthur who was 14 at the time was the only one that passed and was offered 100$ for ‘her’ virginity. ‘She’ accepted with a nod wanting the money, and got the money as soon as they were in private quarters. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the three of them would have been executed immediately when found Hosea and Dutch would’ve murdered the man at that offer. 

After having the money in his hands he grabbed a empty jewelry box and smacked the man over the head before leaving. Dutch and Hosea were relieved to see him out of the room almost immediately and with a fistful of dollars. After enough bullshiting Dutch picked up a magazine of sorts. 

After an eternity the doctor came into the room. “Hello! My name is Dr. Merde. What seems to be the problem today?”

“He got really sick about a month and a half ago and lost his vision,” Dutch answered for him. “His fever was really really high, and he was acting delirious when he was conscious. I don’t think you remember, do you?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I remember the morning with Ms. Grimshaw and you, and then Reverend I guess reading me my last rights. My vision was mostly gone by that point.”

He wished that he could see Dutch’s face right now. To see his reaction. Right now he would even die to see his face pained with anything at all. He wanted to see the doctor deep in thought. Just something. Anything. Anything at all. 

“What was he diagnosed with at the time or name some of the symptoms?” Dr. Merde asked Dutch, he ignored Arthur because his opinion or his accounts didn’t matter anymore because he was an invalid. 

“Scarlet Fever,” Dutch answered slightly strained. Worry swept through Arthur’s face. He was beginning to lose his touch on being able to control his facial expressions. 

“He must of had an infection to go along with it because it alone wouldn’t have done it. The delirium was mostly likely caused by inflammation of the brain caused by infection. He’s very lucky to be alive and...capable...anyways I think that it only took his sight and nothing more. I don’t believe there is anything I can do, but to check him out really quick. You should probably buy a cane from here. My assistant has special ones made for the blind like him at the desk. You can go buy one now and pay for the appointment there, and by the time you’re back we’ll be done,” the merde doctor said. He heard Dutch leave the room. 

Arthur zoned out for the rest of the appointment in deep thought. 

I’ll never be able to see again. How could an infection do this to me. So it wasn’t just one thing. How can I live with myself? Everyone pities me at camp anyways. I wish I was dead…

That last one snapped himself out slightly. He really meant it now. All of the hushed sounds of pity from his ‘family’ of outlaws was getting to him. Being treated like an invalid was worse because he could at least turn a blind eye to the comments, but he couldn’t for how he was being treated. 

Where there is a will, there is a way. He thought. 

Dutch came back into the room and thanked the doctor before helping Arthur out of the seat and building. He put the special cane in Arthur’s hand. “The girl at the desk said that it’s meant to tap the ground to feel stuff like surfaces and if something is in the way or whatnot,” Dutch explained to him helping him out. 

The cane was lighter and thinner than a normal cane, but Arthur supposed that was what it helped for if he was to tap at the ground all day. Growing frustrated with the stick quickly Arthur huffed about it enough until Dutch took it away from him saying another day. They both wished it wasn’t this way. That it had to be this way, but sometimes it can’t be helped. 

It had been a nightmare come to life for Dutch. There was nothing he could do as he watched Arthur nearly die in front of him from the fever. The younger man had been by his side for years in the gang. He’d practically raised the man with Hosea. To see him nearly die had been gut wrenching. His fuse had gone short with everybody, and the camp was ruled with an iron fist. When his fever finally broke Dutch regained some sanity. It broke his heart over again to know that he would never see again. 

They walked through the streets of Saint Denis without a goal in silence. Somehow, it was better that way because they didn’t feel forced to make small talk or go into what was really bothering them. The shallow air of the city’s facade matched them perfectly as they walked through it. Sounds of the snobs passed them by. Arthur couldn’t ignore their conversations very well since otherwise he’d focus too much on Dutch. 

The way Dutch’s arm felt against him. How Dutch would give a reassuring squeeze when he could feel himself getting nervous or scared. Warmth from Dutch’s hand on his. Friction on the fabric on their sleeves. He could feel Dutch’s pulse against his own rapid one. It shouldn’t have make him nervous that he was in the city, but it did nowadays. 

“Do you want to get something to eat? I think we’ve been out a few hours,” Arthur mumbled to Dutch almost like he was afraid that someone was going to hear him. The more someone is told something the more they’ll start to believe it’s true, for Arthur it was being called an invalid by most people. 

“Of course. You’ve earned a meal that you haven’t had to cook with that greasy pig’s stories,” Dutch joked walking over to a nearby restaurant. 

“He does have a lot of ways of telling the same ones,” Arthur continued with the joking. 

The hostess kindly took them to a table in the back from what Arthur could tell. The restaurant smelled like bread, tomatoes, wine, and garlic. It sounded busy as well. Wasn’t some bar dive that Arthur was used to going to for some cheap food. 

“Would you like to look at the menu or order?” a waiter came up and asked in a heavy Italian accent. He set some items down on the table. 

“We know nothing so whatever is good,” Dutch answered to the waiter. Arthur heard the waiter walk off. He just wasn’t used to the nonverbal answers that people would give yet. Dutch took one of Arthur’s hands that was on the table and put it over a basket of bread. “There is I would guess Italian bread and some oil with garlic on the side to…dip it in?” 

Arthur chuckled slightly taking a piece of bread, “Sounds like you’re stumped on what it’s for then.” He ate at the bread slowly while Dutch tried the dip. 

“It’s pretty good to me, but I doubt you’d like it. You never were the one for greasy foods,” Dutch reported chomping down on the bread with oil. He lied about it, he just wanted it all to himself like a greedy little child would do. 

“How’ve you been lately? You’ve been busy,” Arthur asked frowning slightly. 

“You know how it is. I’ve been having to delegate a lot more work out,” Dutch replied sighing. 

“Yeah,” Arthur looked away even though it does nothing for him, but only because it’s a habit. 

“Is something bothering you I should know about?” Dutch asked him concerned. The younger man’s eyebrows grew heavy. He opened his mouth to say something, but ended up saying I’m fine instead. “I know you well enough to know that’s not the truth Arthur.”

“I don’t know Dutch. It’s just...nobody treats me equally anymore. People don’t like talking to me much at camp because they’re too sorry for me or they think I’m an invalid. People call me that. To my face, behind my back, and when they think I can’t hear them. I’m so tired of everything. I feel worthless,” that had hurt him to say that out loud. It was something that when he started saying it he couldn’t stop. His eyes felt heavy and he could feel the tears swell up in his eyes threatening to fall. 

“Oh Arthur…” Dutch couldn’t think of anything to say. All of what he said was true. The older man could see the pain and emptiness on Arthur’s face everyday. Susan had moved the all of the alcohol in a different place so he couldn’t drink himself drunk everyday. 

“The worst part of it is that there is nothing I can do about it. I can’t leave because I’ll probably die horrifically slowly after I fall over a rock. I can’t kill myself because nobody will let me get close to. All I do is stand over that pot stirring and adding ingredients all day until it’s time for me to sleep just to do it again and again,” Arthur wiped a tear that fell. “The only other time I got out of camp was to distract by being what I am.”

“I will try to make it better,” Dutch promised. Arthur did not believe him. They sat and ate in silence until it was time to leave. The two rode back in silence as well. The presence of the other in proximity was just enough.


	5. Earning Your Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur thinks too much and gets into something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These note boxes are my own personal rant space like a blog. The concept of dubious consent is lutacris to me, it's either consensual or non-consensual no inbetweens. Like jesus christ some of the shit on the Resident Evil fandom get your shit together. 
> 
> On another note I get stressed induced migraines. The doctor told me the other day. I don't get jaw dropping pain, but I get a powerful aura where my brain shuts down cognitive functioning. I can't think, speak, read, or write. AS YOU CAN IMAGINE this makes classes very difficult. I have to pick up more relaxing hobbies that I can take with me. It's honestly annoying. People pity me because I can look very out of it. It hurts and it stresses me out more, and I will try to pull the stick that I apparently have out of my ass, but on the bright side for you lovely readers writing generally relaxes me.

Arthur went back to his work at the stew pot when he and Dutch had gotten back to camp. He refused to use the cane to make himself feel more capable in his own mind, as futile as not using it would be. From an outsider's perspective it was foolish to delude himself into thinking that he wouldn’t need it in the long run. There would soon come a day when he would need it. Everyone knew just from how the pair came into camp that they weren’t in the best of moods so everyone carried on as if they’d never left camp at all. 

The younger man was in a foul mood. More or less just upset at himself because of how much he spilled his guts. He would need to confront his own feelings and allow himself to feel them soon enough or he will be...depressed…

He already was before he’d lost his vision.

Everytime he looked into a mirror before he’d always criticized himself for being ugly, or fat, or even some other worse shit, but now he’d die to be able to see himself in a mirror for even a second. When he’s in his bed and can’t fall asleep he runs his fingers on his face trying to feel if anything has changed. He weeps quietly in his cot afterword because he can’t tell anymore.

When he would drink he would drink to the point where he was a violent and belligerent drunk because he wanted to avoid himself. Being blackout was peaceful, it was like being dead, but not. He could never sleep with a working girl or anyone because how bad Mary and her family made him feel for using the hand of cards that he’d been dealt in life.

So many things...and too little headspace to wrap it around…

Stir the pot, add another carrot, break the facade when he thinks nobody is looking. Wake up, get shaved by Hosea, go back to bed to hide. Grab a pot of stew, take a few bites, dump the rest back in when nobody’s around. Sit by the fire, pretend to laugh, put his hand in the fire to see if he still feels pain. People come up, play the part, pretend that they don’t pity him. Go to bed, wait til everyone is asleep, then cry. Endless cycles in his mind.

Somehow he needed to break the habit that he’d fallen into since his time since he became blinded. He had become friends with Kieran when the kid was tied up still. The kid lies in the dirt because John got pissed because he thought the kid lied about where Colm was. Kieran was the only one not to treat him with pity or like he was incompetent. Arthur really needed that. Course he never told anyone about their friendship because he knew that his opinion meant nothing to the camp anymore unless he needed a new large spoon to stir the stew. They all treated him with pity otherwise, or just couldn’t bring themselves to talk to him.

Arthur rummaged around the wagon.

He thinks back to a time when he was younger. Just about 16 years old when Susan whipped him because he needed to go out and start bringing in money. At the time she was Dutch’s girlfriend. She’d changed over the years into her motherly housekeeper personality, but at the time she couldn’t stand Arthur unless he was bringing back a lot of money or something good. At the time Dutch took her back to their shack leaving a bloodied and battered Arthur on the ground to sob. He had to tend to his own wounds at the nearby stream because Hosea was out in town for the next few days courting a women named Bessie.

He found what he wanted.

Arthur had always liked Bessie better than Ms. Susan Grimshaw before Bessie passed from illness. The couple of Bessie and Hosea became like a surrogate family for a time when Dutch wasn’t around for him as much to help. Whether it was with women, or work Dutch was busy for a long time. He taught Arthur how to read and write when he was teen still. What a useless thing to know now goes through his mind now when he thinks about it. Those beatings that he’d receive from Susan when he didn’t ‘keep his weight’ where burnt into his mind. How could he keep his weight mixing stew.

He screwed off the cap and drank til the bottle ran out.

Being the enforcer for the gang WAS his job; now he was just just there mostly out of obligation to what he was before. He’d been the biggest earner of the camp. Just a fucking relic to show others that you can finish earning your keep. At least that’s what went through his mind. 

He tossed the empty bottle to the side and stumbled around. 

Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
I'm tired and I  
I want to go to bed  
Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
And then leave me alone  
Don't try to wake me in the morning  
'Cause I will be gone  
Don't feel bad for me  
I want you to know  
Deep in the cell of my heart  
I will feel so glad to go  
Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
I don't want to wake up  
On my own anymore  
Sing to me  
Sing to me  
I don't want to wake up  
On my own anymore  
Don't feel bad for me  
I want you to know  
Deep in the cell of my heart  
I really want to go  
There is another world  
There is a better world  
Well, there must be  
Well, there must be  
Well, there must be  
Well, there must be  
Well...  
Bye bye  
Bye bye  
Bye…

(Song: Asleep- The Smith’s)

Hands were on his arms and wrapped around his waist. He could vaguely hear yelling around him. Salty fingers were shoved down his throat until he gagged. Vomit and bile came out. He heaved until there was nothing left. Even after all that fingers were back down his throat to make sure everything was out. 

Arthur woke up in his cot after that. He made a move to get out of his cot, but realized that he was tied down to it by his wrists. The former enforcer didn’t realize why he was tied down to it. A sigh to his side caught his attention. 

“Do you even know what you did?” Hosea asked shifting on his own cot Arthur presumed. He could hear the discomfort in the old man’s voice. The air around him felt even hotter. 

“No,” Arthur said with irritation in his voice while testing the restraints. Unfortunately, he didn’t find any weakness to it. “Why is this happening?”

“You drank an entire bottle of poison. We had to force you to throw it all up because you would’ve died. It doesn’t matter if this was an accident, me and others find it best to watch you closely from now on…which means you’re never going to be alone for now. You need to feel your own emotions. It’s just not normal to go through something like that and be fine after,” Hosea explained to him with a sigh. 

Tears swelled up in the corners of his eyes, “Wouldn’t have happened if the booze wasn’t hidden from me. I’m fine Hosea. I’m fine...I’m fine…”

Hosea hushed him and stroked his hair until he cried himself to sleep. It didn’t matter to anyone that it was an accident. Arthur was hurting severely, and the pain wasn’t going away. He just wanted the pain to go away temporarily, but he didn’t mean for it to go that far.


	6. Blessed are the Peacemakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I wrote this in an hour and 40 minutes. Hmm to others that read my other rdr2 fic I need to do a lot more research because I got a very specific request from someone for that one. 
> 
> I love listening to Eminem while I write. It helps a lot because it keeps a line of my thinking in check while I write. I’m a bit scatterbrained. 
> 
> Enjoy, and comment your suggestions and complaints. I’m serious about the suggestions and complaints. I could use some constructive or deconstructive criticism. I eat up all comments.

Three days. He’d been nearly bored to death by Uncle. Fortunately the man always brought booze with him. It’s not like the stories were always bad, but it was like Arthur was a wall he’d talk to. Hosea always brought him to face his own feelings. Abigail and Sadie were his personal good angels. Sadie had felt the same way he had not too long ago. They at least had that to share in losing a part of themselves and not wanting to continue. 

Some of the people weren’t as understanding. Bill said that if he wasn’t important to others that he would have killed Arthur himself. Javier wouldn’t talk. The man would hum while playing his guitar. Just ignoring Arthur who laid on the cot. 

Dutch usually didn’t say very much at all. He’d hold Arthur’s hand, pet his head, and cry when he thought Arthur was asleep. The younger man was awake and could hear the sorrow in Dutch’s sob. His tears fell onto his hand and sometimes his cheek. A quiet kiss on the forehead would be the last thing he did before he left. When he was awake they’d make small talk, though Arthur could hear the pain in his voice. 

It made him feel guilty causing so much pain to the older man. He felt guilty being dead weight to the gang as well. Sometime that day a new guest showed up to his tent. With a heavy thud the guest sat down or laid down on Hosea’s cot. 

“Hello?” Arthur inquired. God he wanted a whiskey with some ice in it right about now. It was always an expensive treat when he could get ahold of it before. 

“It’s me cowpoke,” Micah grumbled shifting. He probably was laying down. 

“Whatcha want Micah?” Arthur groaned annoyed with his guest already. It sounded like the grungy outlaw had some reservations on what he was going to say next. 

“Being someone who values personal freedom too much...I can give you the chance to escape and do whatever the hell you want after. It’s your own choice if you want to die or leave, but every choice has its consequences so I can’t promise you anything…it’s just what I would have wanted if I was stuck in your position. You have no other choice because they’re all being decided for you. Personal liberty is different from civil liberties. Tomorrow, tomorrow’s the day you get to choose. You can choose to remain stuck here with nothing or try to escape,” Micah ranted quietly for the first time in his goddamn life. The outlaw had fear in his voice because he knew that if he was caught telling this to Arthur that he’d most likely be executed. In essence and all reality Micah was completely right; Arthur had no freedom of choice. 

With saying what he wanted to he left like he came and replaced by Dutch. The older man sat down more carefully on the cot. “Was he bothering you?” He could imagine Dutch saying that with his thumb pointed at Micah. 

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “How’er you getting on?”

“Well,” Dutch sighed his voice brimming with a nervous gleam. “I have a meeting with Colm O’Driscoll. Micah, Hosea, and Bill are going as well.”

This is the opportunity Micah was talking about, Arthur thought about it. He was going to be asked to go by Dutch most likely. If he said no or did everything he was told he would be right here still. There was going to be the opportunity to run and get caught, or he could raise his gun and be shot to death. 

This could be it. Decisions, decisions; there would be an opportunity that he may not get again for a long time. Blessed are the peacemakers he thought he heard Micah say once before. In his mind changing up the rhythm would be good for everyone. He wouldn’t burden anyone anymore, and the camp would use less resources. 

“I need you to come with us because Colm specifically asked for you, Hosea, and I to go. We’ll all leave tomorrow, and for god's sake son you need to eat more! I can see your goddamn cheekbones! That’s it I’m getting you more food to eat!” Dutch started freaking out as his own attempt to distract himself from the topic. 

“Dutch!” Arthur moved his fingers because he knew it’d catch his attention. “It’s alright. We will all be fine. It’s ok.” 

“I know it will,” Dutch lied covering Arthur’s hand with his own endearingly. He went to leave. His fingertips grazing the top of Arthur’s hand. Arthur quickly grabbed ahold of a couple of Dutch’s fingers, and felt his face heat up. 

“Please stay with me for a bit,” Arthur said quicker and more desperate than he meant to say. Dutch held his hand and sat back down on the cot. 

“Of course I will,” and Arthur swears he heard Dutch smile. 

Why did I say that so quickly? Am I blushing? Oh god I’m blushing my face is all hot! It’s just Dutch! It’s impossible for a me to like another man. I’m not against queers but I’m not one. That one guy in that bar in Saint Denis-nope! Dutch only sees me as a son. I got over this crush a long time ago, it can’t happen again. Oh man that one time when I saw his-no, no, no! Well me and Mary were together a few times...I didn’t really want to, but she insisted. I remember just thinking of all those drawings in that ancient Greek book of all those men’s-AHHHHHHH! ...I wonder how I look right now…

He remembered last night when Dutch visited him when he thought he was asleep. The older man whispered so low that he couldn’t hear him, but he remembered the tone being so loving and sweet. All the light touches of brushing a strand of hair out of his face, or when he held his hand like he is now being so light and tender. It was so loving. He can’t help, but think that the older man likes him as well. Arthur wants to be wrong because he doesn’t believe he deserves it. 

A gentle nudge on the shoulder woke him up. His wrists were no longer bound to the bed. Realization struck him in the face that he’d fallen asleep quickly after Dutch held his hand. Lightly he touched his hand that Dutch held and held it to his chest. He realized that it was something a lovesick child would do, and it embarrassed him. 

“We leave in 20 cowpoke,” Micah walked off. Someday he’d have to find a way to thank Micah for this opportunity. Quickly he got himself dressed up, and realized how thin he’d actually gotten. He ignored the cane on top of his chest of clothing. When he reached pearsons wagon he poured himself a coffee and promptly overfilled it burning his hand that held the cup. Thankfully it wasn’t too hot. 

Grimacing he sipped at the top of the cup until he was collected to ride with Hosea. His heart raced with excitement and anxiety. However it would end up going it would end one way or another. 

Like time had flashed foreword and he was standing in the valley of a field near Valentine. Colm O’Driscoll and his men near him. A repeater in his arms and facing the correct way he stood quietly to the side. 

“Been a long time Dutch. I heard that you took one of my men,” the snake said venomously. 

“Yes, yes it has been a long time Colm. He died quickly at least from what I heard,” Dutch said unemotional. 

“Oh? I was under the impression that he showed back up to one of my camps with a gunshot to the arm. I learned a lot of things,” Colm smuggly replied and snapped his fingers. 

“Bill, you, John and uhhh...whatever are going to explain this later...what do you want Colm?”

“You know what I want Van Der Linde!” Colm accused. “Hosea and Arthur aren’t looking too well. The old man I understand, but the kid? He looks sickly. They feeding you enough son?”

“He’s-“ 

“I ain’t talking to you!” Colm cut Dutch off. “Answer it Arthur.” His voice was filled with accusation, knowing, and venom. It rattled Arthur slightly. 

“I’m all good-“ 

“You don’t look it. Your wrists are scabbed up and bleeding, and you’re thin as a rail. Are you sure you’re ‘all good’ because if you wanted to be treated better you can take a few steps forward-“

“Enough!” Dutch commanded. God Arthur wished he could see what was going on. He could only rely on the sound of what he heard going on around him for cues. 

“You all tied me to a tree with nothing. I saw the difference in everyone when he lost his sight!” Kieran yelled angered. His hatred radiated from his body. “We talked a lot. He was the only nice one to me, and I’m the only one that didn’t treat him like he was incapable!”

He heard Dutch growl. This was going to get violent quickly unless something happened. Micah coughed and it sounded so fake. That had to be his queue. Arthur raised his gun and backed up aiming indescimanently. 

“I’m doing what I want now and I want to go. If I hear anyone move I’ll shoot. I swear. There’s nothing worse than a blind man shooting,” he backed up closed to some horses. 

“Arthur think this through please,” Hosea begged him to stop. The old man’s heartbreak was apparent. 

“Oh I’ve thought this through enough,” Arthur spat climbing up the horse. “I’m making something of the choices I have left. If I die, I die.”

“Arthur!” Dutch yelled like when he led bounty hunters back to camp once when he was 20 right before he whipped him in front of the bounty hunters. It was only anger in his voice. If there was any other emotion to it he was a master con man...well he was a master con man so…

Arthur made the horse go fast at that. The yelling for him died down soon after he got out of their vocal range. The horse beneath him wasn’t one of the gangs. The mere was pleased that her rider wasn’t someone heavy for once. Her trot was happy once he slowed her down. He guessed he wasn’t as far away as he thought when he was drug off the horse and choked unconscious.


	7. And You Will Know The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tigger warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three days in a row
> 
> It’ll become a bit more romantic after this chapter.

He woke up on a bed with chains on his wrists. Testing his restraints it appeared to him that they were attached to a wall of some sorts. Mary had been into weirder things in the bedroom. It amazed him that she ended up getting married with some of the things she made him do in the bedroom. Someone clearing their throat got his attention. He faced the source of the noise. 

“Before you ask,” It was Colm O’Driscoll. “I was going to capture you anyways if you hadn’t ran. You only made things easier. Kieran won’t be visiting you either. I couldn’t manage to kill the bastard before he ran off. He wasn’t too happy with what I have planned for you.” He paused at that waiting for Arthur to say something. The tone he used was one that was final. That he made up his mind and wasn’t going to back down. 

It was the sort of tone that reminded him of his father right before he would beat him or his mother. The sort line that shouldn’t be crossed. He didn’t have much to lose kidnapped and chained up to a bed. Being murdered anyways was most likely going to happen. Therefore speaking out didn’t really matter.

“What’s going to happen to me then? I know you’re waiting for me to ask that. You did always like playing mind games,” Arthur said bitterly. Colm could only manage to stifle his laughter. The man was as sadistic as they came, and he wasn’t able to keep off the gallows longer than a few months before his men needed to come rescue him again. His behavior was rotten and he wasn’t good at covering up his own tracks.

“That’s quite true, but I plan on pissing off Dutch into being reckless. If you’d seen how he looked at you as you took off, it was something special. I’m going to bruise you up, kill you, and leave your body where he’ll find it first. It’ll be much better than Annabelle because he likes you more I can tell,” the man’s laughter sent shivers down Arthur’s spine. So it wasn’t Arthur’s imagination going crazy, Dutch did like him. It frightened him to think that he could end up just like Annabelle. He kept his composure in face of the tyrant. “It quite unfortunate that you lost your sight or I would’ve kept you down here until you were screaming that you were an O’Driscoll and not a Van Der Linde, but anyways-“

“If your doing this for revenge the both of you have already gotten it a long time ago,” Arthur cut him off and felt Colm sit on the bed. His weight shifted the bed uncomfortable.

“We have, but you can’t deny we’re still at war with each other. There will never be peace. I’ll take pleasure in the fact I’m hurting Dutch and that’s mostly it. It should provide an opportunity to wipe out the rest of his gang,” Colm sighed shifting. 

“Why? We’re being hunted like rabid dogs by the Pinkertons. They’ve been systematically eliminating all the gangs and outlaws only for a few years and they’ve made a lot of progress,” Colm leaned in close to Arthur’s ear. Close enough to feel and smell his breath. 

“It’s personal,” Colm growled at him. 

“So it is revenge and I thought you said this was war!? Nothing good will come out of this for both of you! You do know that!? Killing me is only for you and that’s it! It’s nothing more and it nothing less,” Arthur hissed back at him. If there was one thing he was taught by Dutch it was not to get revenge because nothing ever resolved from it. A personal satisfaction maybe, but it just ends up damaging both parties. 

“I don’t care how much I get out of it as long as I see him suffer when I mention your name. You are right, there is so much I can do that will produce the same or greater result. The last time I let everyone have a go on someone about twenty men ended up getting syphilis from Annabelle being passed around. Men getting their sloppy rounds. No, bruising on the hips, and hickies on the neck deliver the same response with less of a chance at...that…going around,” Colm ranted angrily in his face. His breath stunk of bourbon. It had been a pain in the ass for him to round up more men after that had happened. Colm supposed it was some sort of karma if he believed in that.

“Then why do you feel the need to tell me this if you’re just going to kill me?” Arthur asked annoyed. He was more in the mood of just get on with it at the moment rather than talking. 

“My men don’t like me. They pretend they do to my face, but they don’t. I’d rather have an honest conversation with someone who will admit they hate me to my face than a group of half asses,” Colm must have had the bottle close by because he took a swig of it. 

“Maybe they’re afraid of being murdered by you if they don’t behave,” Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Could be. It also might have been that one time when we were good with your gang. I don’t think you heard about that one,” Colm blew off his accusation. 

“I don’t think I did, I don’t think I knew what was going on…” Colm didn’t reply. He wanted more of an answer. Arthur sighed and gave into him. “Tell me what went on? The truth.”

“And you will know the truth,” Colm took another swig happy to have a captive audience member. “Years ago, I think you were still a teenager. Me and Dutch ran some jobs coordinated by our gangs.”

“I know I was there,” Arthur grumbled and Colm placed his hand over Arthur’s mouth to keep from any more interruptions. 

“ANYWAYS, one of the jobs was just me and Dutch. For this job he needed an enforcer with a brain unlike yourself, but I think that was before you got out of that teenage thinness though. We were robbing a boat of people. I was the bodyguard to the ‘rich man’ who struck it good in the oil. We were on that boat for a few days before the job went bad. We’d been robbing them, but it turned into a massacre. Nobody lived to say it was us when it was found. We got the money in a couple of lifeboats, but what went on you can read the aftermath in the newspaper. Oh yeah, the newspaper didn’t know what happened but documented the whole aftermath. Blood everywhere. We didn’t even get all the money either. The coins were all we could take because of all the blood. 

“On the first day of the job we went aboard the ship and took our cabin in the middle of the ship. We knew that we were going to make a great payout on the job. Pickpocketing and rigging table games was a great start. The problem came a few days into the trip. One of the passengers recognized our wanted poster and started running off to tell on us. You do have to remember that we’re the only two people that remember or saw what happened as the only survivors. 

“Dutch grabbed a nearby kitchen knife and stabbed that guy to death quickly. After that happened things went crazy. Other people were shooting each other and we were all stripped and searched for firearms when we went on the ship so someone else was planning on something like that too. It took eight hours for the noise to die out. There was so much shooting, blood, rape, drugs, and money everywhere I can’t begin to tell you. Course I participated in everything, but Dutch started getting a little creative with the killings, or at least it seemed that way. His eyes were dead as he killed. He said nothing as we rounded up money and escaped the ship.” He finished the story with a wicked gleam to his voice and released the hand on Arthur’s mouth. 

“That what you wanted to tell me? That Dutch killed?” Arthur asked rhetorically. Dutch couldn’t speak for a month after coming back from that heist. It scared him. 

“Suppose not, but that’s why my men fear me and Dutch. I love telling that story,” Colm sounded like he’d spaced out. 

“Dutch never talked about it because he knew it was completely wrong, and I already knew you were that rotten anyways. I’ve heard the story around the campfire the night you returned. You gave me thirty dollars to go get lots of booze to celebrate,” Arthur explained to him. Colm grunted disappointed that it wasn’t his first time hearing the story. 

“I did get wasted that night, and that’s a shame he never talked about it. It was a great score, but enough talk,” he took another swig of the devil's drink and smashed it against the ground. Arthur swallowed nervously. “Oh yeah before I do this you know those Pinkerton assholes came up to me the other day and offered me my freedom if I helped turn in Van Der Linde. I said I’d keep it mind, but I would rather have the pleasure of hearing his screams from my own doing then some bureaucratic bullshit hang him. Besides they’re only going to find another monster to hunt. They have to, they have to justify their paychecks somehow.”

“They called me an invalid-SHIT!” Arthur yelled when Colm scratched him with his knife. His warm blood ran down his cheek. 

“Well you are and if you hold still this’ll be much quicker to do, and less painful. However if you feel inclined to you can struggle and cry more. It’ll only make me feel better,” he could hear the sadistic grin that the man wore while he cut Arthur’s cloths up slightly and sliced him where he seemed fit. The former enforcer bit his tongue. He’d been through worse before. Like the time he was kidnapped and shot in the shoulder by the man’s gang. He was lucky not to slip into septic shock. 

Satisfied with his knife work he ripped open Arthur’s shirt and undershirt/underwear thingy that they wore back then. The popping buttons scattered on the floor. Despite his heart racing in terror he would not give into the man now straddling his hips. Hands wrapped around his throat. Instinctively Arthur’s hands shot around to grab at Colm’s wrists to pry them off, but to no avail. He struggled against him until his limbs grew weak and he let his hands and legs drop. Even though he can’t see even light he swore his vision blurred. 

Colm let go of his death grip and let Arthur breath for a moment before going to bruise the rest of his body. The younger man didn’t have the strength not to scream after that. It must have been the sadistic man’s plan after all. He even said that the screams and struggles brought him pleasure. His mind drifted to when he was young when his mother and father were still alive. 

His father would drink and beat him and his mother all of the time. At a very young age he was taught how to play poker so his dad could hustle games. Even when he did exactly as he was told he would be beaten for losing a hand of cards. He wasn’t the greatest player, but never the worst at the table. His mother hated that he was forced to play cards, but couldn’t do anything about it. 

After his mother died along with cards his father made him take up the cooking and cleaning until he died as well. With his family gone he drifted along until he met Dutch and Hosea. The two took him in and raised him up quickly into someone who could be respected or at the very least tolerated by polite society. 

He doesn’t remember when he blacked out from the pain, but the pain when he woke up was all over his body. From where he hurts he assumed that Dutch and the others would truly believe that he was raped. Arthur knew that Colm planned on murdering him close by to where he thinks the camp is so that he could see the agony on the members of the gangs faces. It was to be assumed that he was going to die in a few hours.

What have I done with my life? I suppose I’ve been a miserable person who did miserable things. I guess I regret not putting myself out there more to be friendly with others instead of being alone all the time. Me and Mary shouldn’t have gone as long as we should have, I should have broke things off with her when she threatened to break up with me when I wouldn’t sleep with her. Most of all I wish I hadn’t been such a coward with my own feelings and opinions. M’not all dumb like they think, and I know I like things I shouldn’t like, but…I like Dutch.

“You know the more I marked you up the more I’m thinking I should actually just do it,” Colm said out of the blue startling Arthur. He sat up really quickly realizing that his wrists were no longer cuffed. 

This can’t be about to happen, Arthur thought grimly, he wants me to put up a fight, but I’m not going to get very far if I try to run or fight.

“And I thought you were just going to kill me!” Arthur growled trying to seem more fierce, but ended up trying to shrink out of Colm’s touch when his hand cupped Arthur’s cheek. The touch was light, but violent. The enemy outlaw leaned in to Arthur’s ear and breathed for a few moments until Arthur shivered in disgust.

“I was thinking that it would be better the be able to give details of what I did to you by fucking you hard because every lie is part truth. To make it more believable, and I was just so delighted by how much you screamed because of me last night,” Colm bit his ear hard enough to bruise.

“I hope you die painfully.” Arthur stated darkly as Colm moved closer to his lips. He kissed Arthur roughly until the both of them were choking for air. Arthur’s hands were trying to push the older man off of him, but to no avail. Colm was heavy. Seemed like Colm admired him a lot if he spent so much time on a kiss with no roaming hands. Moving his mouth down he bit down hard on Arthur’s shoulder causing him to cry out. Blood ran down the back of his shoulder and he could feel it dripping from Colm.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Colm sounded very pleased with himself and kissed Arthur again. He didn’t like the taste of his own blood and moaned painfully against Colm’s mouth. 

The sound of a door being broken into caught both of their attention. He heard Colm muttering shit and got up. Yanking Arthur up by his wrist he tried to drag him along until he hit a door frame and fell to the floor. He went to grab Arthur off the floor, but stopped halfway letting him drop to the floor again. A few rounds went off near him.

“ARTHUR!” Dutch yelled running to help Arthur off the floor.

“M’fine, go get him.” Arthur commanded while being helped up. Dutch helped him over to the bed. 

“That can wait. You’re bleeding from your head and shoulder. Oh god, did he?” Dutch asked about the bruises on his body. His fingers tailed down on some of the ones on his upper chest. 

“No, these were for show, but if you didn’t show up when you did…” Arthur leaned himself foreword until his head was resting on Dutch’s shoulder. Instinctively the older man wrapped his arms around Arthur’s torso. 

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” Dutch offered to him rubbing circling his back. 

“Can you tend to my wounds first?” Arthur asked him closing his eyes and relaxing into Dutch’s embrace. 

“Course I will,” Dutch lightly patted his back. 

After awhile of various tonics and bandages Dutch finally finished helping Arthur. Dutch took his coat from his horse and wrapped Arthur up in it. The younger blushed slightly at the kindness. He guessed that he was back up in the Grizzlies because of how cold it was. Arthur fell asleep resting on Dutch’s shoulder on the ride back to camp.


	8. (Title is in the chapter for anyone who caught the easteregg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...And you will know the truth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not good at slow burns I need to move more into the floooooof

Arthur woke up to Dutch nudging him awake. The younger man opened his eyes, but still saw nothing. “Do you want to tell me what happened in there?” Dutch asked him. 

“Not really,” Arthur answered still laying on Dutch. He didn’t want to think about it. He wished that the memory would vanish. Colm would have, and he tried. 

“So is it safe to assume-“ 

“No,” Arthur grumbled sitting up. Dutch waited for an answer. “When I slowed down the horse I got pulled off and knocked out. I woke up on that bed, chained to it. Colm came in drunk and wanting to talk before he made me presentable for when he would kill me. He mainly wanted to kill me because it would get to you. Saying you had this look for me when I ran off. I passed out from pain when he marked me up. Like I said earlier, you showed up at the right time. He wanted to...take me...so that he could make a better lie about how he killed me. Rub it in your face. That bite hurt so bad and it was all because he wanted to hear me scream.”

Arthur shook at the memory of being bitten, Dutch wrapped his hand around Arthur’s and gave a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright now... Kieran was the one that led us there. Turns out they Colm misinforms his men. We’re at someplace new now because the two Pinkerton men that you ran into showed up. I convinced him to give back your revolver.”

“Thank you,” Arthur smiled happily…

 

And The Truth Will Set You Free

 

...making Dutch smile warmly as well. He wished that he convey how sickly and dead Arthur looked right now. When he first saw him he thought he was looking at a corpse. It had only been a day that he’d been separated from the gang, but he supposed the slow death of starvation was what he tried to do at camp. Blood was matted in his hair, and caked in places all over over him. Colm must have thought he was dead when he hit his head because the wound was mostly clotted by the time he got to him. 

It only seemed like yesterday when Arthur had gotten sick...

After leaving Arthur’s cot to delegate work to the other members he had to have a drink because of how pissed off he was. He was pissed that Arthur was sick and excused from doing any work. Dutch softened up after a couple of drinks realizing how much work he burdens him with, and now with him not there he finally understood that Arthur was the backbone of the gang. 

Later that day he’d gone back to Arthur’s tent and just watched him sleep for a while. He watched the slow rise and fall of Arthur’s chest while he slept. The rash that had shown up and spread over his body as well. Susan wasn’t happy that Arthur kept kicking and throwing off his blankets. His face was red and slicked with sweat because of the fever. Admittedly Dutch felt guilty for making him do so much to get injured and getting sick as a result for helping a doctor. 

He didn’t get better in the days that followed. He only got worse and worse. Wide eyed and delirious when he was awake. The doctor from Valentine was no help. Reverend was high on morpheme when he read Arthur his last rights. That day his skin was gray, dark bags adorned under his eyes, a fever so high that Pearson thought he could cook the stew with his body heat, and his breath was heavily labored. Dutch was screaming at the doctor as reverend read to him. Arthur’s eyes wandered around trying to take everything in. He wondered if that was the last time Arthur saw anything. 

Dutch felt guilty for it all. He felt so bad after Arthur woke up that he ended up going to the bar in Van Horn to drink for a few days at some point. Micah, Bill, Karen, and Javier stepped up immensely for working. It took him a long while to be able to bring himself to talk to Arthur while he was awake. He loved those moments when Arthur was asleep so that he could brush a stray strand of hair out of his peaceful face, or so that he could talk to him without talking to him. He would hold Arthur’s hand too and sometimes Arthur’s hand would twitch and he would think for a moment that he might be awake. 

The day the two had in Saint Denis was one of the worst days of both of their lives. In his mind and in everyone else’s Arthur had tried to commit suicide by drinking poison. The day hadn’t gone well in the city too. Forcing him to vomit wasn’t very pleasant. He just remembered to misery on Arthur’s face all day too well. The young man’s pain couldn’t be hidden that day. 

It left him on edge. His heart thudded so hard that he could feel it, leaving him feeling haggard and restless. Like he’d done something wrong. The anxiety was so bad, and he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, but couldn’t. He was the leader. The man with the plan. The one that guided them. He couldn’t falter because he wasn’t allowed to. The others looked to him like he held all the answers. In truth he didn’t know what he was doing most of the time.

This scared him. A man with no plan was a dead one in his line of work. He had all these people to feed and keep safe from the law and the other gangs so there was no way he shouldn’t have a plan for every eventuality. Humans don’t work that way. Fallible creatures of habit who like to stick to what they know. 

When he got word that the O’Driscolls wanted to meet him and the others he knew it was going to be a trap. He didn’t know how it was going to go down, but he’d be damned if he didn’t say he didn’t know it was one. All his instincts were screaming not to go, but his own urge of self preservation got the best of him. The law was breathing down the gangs necks at this point and it would be nice to have someone else to help watch it for once other than his own gang. 

There had been that time years ago, but that was in the past. The now was now. 

He had to bring Arthur despite the bad place mentally and physically he was. The man was slowly starving himself to death. Nobody seemed to notice or care that he’d only take a bite or two of the stew. He’d only have a coffee with that earlier in the day as well. Skin and bones now with a death wish. 

Arthur had run off during the confrontation with the other gang. He’d screamed at him in pure anger because of what lengths he’d do to hurt himself as to not inconvenience others. The trap was set to capture one, and that one was Arthur. Kieran came running into the camp with his hands held high in the air when they’d gone back to get supplies for the search. 

Micah had gone ahead trying to scout where he was for the group. He’d been captured as well, shot, and nearly died of blood loss when they came across him. There was no way that wound wasn’t infected. He’d either live or die due to septic shock. The man was sent swiftly back to the camp with Karen. 

Him and the others that stormed the camp made a mess of the camp. Colm tried to shoot his way from the barn, but ended up retreating. Not too many men, but most were killed in the process. Dutch went to the house and searched the upstairs rooms finding Arthur on the floor of the room like a corpse. He screamed the young man’s name and he stirred awake. 

He talked to him for a moment until he noticed the bruising on the young man’s hips. Questioning him Arthur said it wasn’t what he was thinking, but it would have been if he had come any later. Part of him believes that Arthur was raped in his sleep, but the other part of him trusted what Arthur said was truth that it hadn’t happened. 

Arthur slumped against him unconscious. He would need a lot of rest. It was a good thing that the O’Driscolls had kindly donated this wagon. Dutch tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. The younger man’s hair was brittle and thinned out from the malnutrition. He would tell Arthur his feelings soon, but not too soon.


	9. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch and Arthur talk. It’s a short chapter, but it felt appropriate to stop there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ring dang doo came on as I was finishing the chapter so...I don’t have a joke for that one. 
> 
> Well I’m glad I’m free for the next few days. I honestly want to make a Bill and Arthur fic bacause I could see it working. I got ambushed by Bill a couple of times in the campaign. The one that shocked me was when he alluded to Sunny the Rapist in the bayou. The reason why it could work is because they’re both gruff enforcers. It’s hard to explain, but this fic and my Micah Arthur fic are my childeren currently. One of them would have to finish before that.

He was still there. Colm was biting into his neck. The pain. The pain. The pain. His own scream rang in his ears, and it was so loud he couldn’t hear anything.

Dutch went into Arthur’s room on account of his screams. He sat down next to him and held him in his arms, humming to him, petting him, cooing him, and rocked him until he fell back into a deep sleep. From his own experience of nightmares he would remember them if he was woken up. 

Arthur woke up to being held by someone unknown to him. He laid still for a few moments listening to the light snore before reaching up and touching the source of the snore. Tracing his fingers along the face he slowly recognized who it belong to by the feel of the mustache. He was laying against Dutch. 

Feeling his face flush slightly he rested his head against Dutch’s shoulder nuzzling against his neck. His body still hurt from what Colm did to him. Remembering what the monster did to him and planned on doing to him made him shudder. 

He’d been sliced open, chocked, beaten, bruised up, bitten, and almost raped by the monster of a man. That wasn’t the worst thing the man had ever done. What he’d done to Annabelle was horrific. The monster said that if it wouldn’t have caused problems that he would’ve let what happened to Annabelle happen to him too. Course he did know what happened to her, but to be in that position, Colm had nothing to gain or lose by telling Arthur the truth of what happened to her. Originally thought it bluff years ago when it first happened, but for Colm to sound so irritated by how many men died because one had syphilis was shocking. 

Arthur realizes that he must have fallen asleep sometime during the ride to the new camp. If Dutch and the others hadn’t come. His mind fluttered with the possibilities. The monster on him tearing the last bit of his remaining soul out of him. How he truly would have actually died that day, not from being murdered even, no, he would have died mentally before that. Colm had promised suffering to him to cause more to Dutch because he wanted him to hurt. The feud the two gangs ran deep, and the only way it would end would be with the demise of one or both gangs. 

Still he couldn’t stop imagining Colm on top of him. Seeing through an old memory of the man on him. Vividly he could imagine that even with his sight gone. Being too powerless to stop him. Even if he had been strong enough he would have never gotten away. 

“I’m right here Arthur,” Dutch cooed in his ear rocking him. He was trembling and shaking. When did he start crying? It didn’t matter now when he started, but he couldn’t stop. His cry was audible with hiccups and whines. A hand brushed through his hair lovingly to comfort him. Shushes soothed him. The older man’s deep voice brought him comfort. “It’s alright now Arthur. You are safe...I am safe...we are all safe here, at camp.”

I don’t feel safe. My mind...I’m trapped with it. Afraid of my own memories and promises that were thrown at me not long ago. Not a moment had gone by since I lost my sight that I have felt completely safe or relaxed. ‘And I drive myself crazy thinking everything’s about me.’ (Linkin Park- Heavy). I just want to feel safe again. Though in your arms Dutch I do...just for a moment…

“Dutch?” Arthur questioned gripping his shirt tightly feeling Dutch tense slightly before holding Arthur closer to him. Warm tears began to soak his shirt. A couple were from him. 

“Shhhh...it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re ok. Everything is alright. I’ll be here as long as you need me,” he paused tending up. “Are you sure that he didn’t do anything more to you?”

“M’sure. Just scared of what woulda happened if you didn’t get there in time,” Arthur sniffled wishing that his appearance wasn’t too awful right now. 

“You can always tell me anything. Talk to me when you’re ready. You’ve been through a lot these past few months. I’m sorry that I haven’t been the best. Honestly I don’t think that anyone would have expected this reaction out of you from...you know...but you just need more time,” Dutch said, honestly it all broke his heart. Comforting Arthur was the least he could do. 

“It don’t feel like it’s gonna get better...he promised to torture me to hurt you...he’ll find me and try again so it’ll kill you. Even if he didn’t kill me I’d still be dead...I know that would be the final straw. I know it. You know-“ Arthur said blankly, devoid of emotion like a robot. Almost like he accepted his inevitable death to be at the hands of the other gang leader. “I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t physically do it...knowing that it’ll kill you too...I...I...I don’t know what to say...I like you too...and I know you feel the same, otherwise Colm wouldn’t have gone after me.”

That shocked Dutch. The monster went after Arthur specifically because he knew whatever cruel thing that happened to him would hurt him more. Somehow Colm found out his feelings for Arthur and wanted to use that against him like he did Annabelle. He feels Arthur’s rapidly beating weak pulse below his hand. 

It would have been the worst pain he would ever feel to lose Arthur. They’ve known each other for over 20 years now. He taught him how to read and write. Arthur’s penmanship had surpassed his own before the man had reached 20. He loved writing so much and it hurt to know that he could never see, read, or write his writing ever again. However, to lose him to Colm not only murdering him, but doing other things first would actually kill him. 

“Never planned on acting out on my feelings because I felt like they were wrong. They only came up recently…” Dutch mumbled quietly wishing that they could be lost in space forever. 

“I’ve liked you for a long time, but you always saw me as a son so I never said anything. Sometimes when I disappear for times I go to odd places in Saint Denis at night in a shady bar. Men picking men, and women picking up women. I still try to deny it to myself, even going to the point of letting Mary use me and...and...nevermind...but I still thought of you. Never went after Bill because he has a loud mouth and I’ve said the wrong name a few times much to my own and their own mortification. Heh, it is kinda funny thinking back on that,” Arthur smiled slightly. He’d stopped crying, but still remained in Dutch’s arms with his hands still curled in his shirt. 

“Guess I lost the bet against Mary-Beth, Bill, Sean, Susan, and Karen, oh well. Before you ask it was made a while ago. We can go at your pace, that is if you still want it?” Dutch promised him cupping his cheek lightly. The touch was light and tender. Arthur felt his face heat up. 

“I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” Arthur hinted at blushing more. No one he’d been with had been that considerate of him. Dutch turned his head and pressed his lips to Arthur’s lightly. A simple kiss that held an unspoken promise to one another. 

It was all he could ever hope for.


	10. I heart EMOtions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue. It’s a few weeks later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got caught up in the moment and gave a realistic possibility of an action that leads to something that’s sad, but leads to truth. 
> 
> Remember if you don’t know how I feel about comments then look up TEA SLUT on YouTube. I always want that tea.

His stomach lurched and he heaved into a bucket that was placed in his face. Susan and the others had been feeding Arthur to the point where he threw up. Dutch brought him candies from the store. Susan brought him her stash of vodka imported straight from Russia. Abigail catered to him constantly. She made sure he ate and drank everything given to him and didn’t choke on his vomit. 

He learned that Micah was incredibly sick as well...physically anyways. The man was already sick in the head. They were kept at a complete distance. Both were very weak and sick. It was also what Arthur learned from the doctor in Valentine that kept the two separated. When Arthur learned of how sick Micah was he said that it was very likely that if he lived through septic he would develop TB symptoms quickly. 

The food he’d just ate did not taste great coming back up. Abigail put his glass of vodka in his hand to burn the taste out of his mouth. Swishing the fluid around his mouth to clean it he the burn clean himself. Arthur wasn’t too sure of how much weight he’d gained back, but his face felt fuller and his caretakers were seemingly less strict with how fast he ate. 

He was becoming less and less conscious with his own lack of vision. Hosea taught him how to use the cane that he’d gotten from Dr. Merde. It felt nice to be able to get out of bed for a few minutes at the time to walk around his room. Other than those few minutes he wasn’t allowed to even sit up unless he was eating or drinking. His nursemaid didn’t allow it. It was only Hosea that let him move around and that was a secret between the two of them. 

Dutch and him had gotten closer over the past few weeks. Handholding, cuddling, and kissing was all they’ve done so far. It was mostly because Arthur was on a gain weight quick regimen. The older man still talked to him when he thought he was asleep. It was Arthur’s secret that he kept to himself. A sweet stolen kiss on the forehead signaled his goodbye or goodnight before he slept. 

“This is the third time today,” Arthur groaned to nursemaid Abigail. “It’s. Not. Even. Noon.” 

“You still look like you’ve been starved almost to death,” Abigail justified her and the others overfeeding. He heard her shuffling things around. Presumably she was getting more food ready to shove down his throat.

“It looks like you just went through the famine that those British sons of whores put my people through,” Sean barged in his room and took what he assumed was a piece of food off of the never ending plate that he would have to eat. Swearing that he heard Abigail growled. If there was to be a protoje to Susan it would be her. 

“If it ain’t apparent enough looking means nothin to me anymore,” Arthur chuckled setting the glass of booze next to his leg. The other two couldn’t help but partake in the laughter. 

“At least you finally seem happy now. Didn’t think a sour man like yourself could get anymore sour, but something in ya’s changed,” Sean noted shifting on the hardwood. 

“A lot has happened,” Arthur nodded picking his drink back up for a quick sip. The aftertaste of vomit liked to linger for a long time. 

“Indeed it has,” Abigail agreed with him. “We were in Blackwater a few months ago, and so much time has passed. Too much has happened.”

“I can’t believe how many people we’ve lost. Also I need to tell you that John disappeared...he left a note…” Sean said ruffling some papers. 

“You know I can’t read, right?” Abigail tried to keep her voice composed. 

Sean cleared his throat before speaking,

“Dear Everybody,

I’m sorry that I’ve left. I just can’t take another day of this life anymore so I’ve left. Like Mrs. Adler I have to go. Don’t bother looking for me I want you all to know I’ll be happier this way. Believe me, I really will be. 

Thank you Dutch and Hosea for being better father’s than my old drunken fool of a man. You two have done everything and more for me. I’m sorry to have disappointed you by leaving. Arthur you were the best brother I’ve never had. We haven’t always gotten along and I hope that you don’t hold me in contempt forever. I know that the gang will take care of you. 

Abigail you know my thoughts on your son. To this day I still don’t believe that he’s my son. Good luck raising him, and I’m sorry I truly am. 

To the rest of the gang, thank you

John Marston”

“At least he left a note this time,” Abigail’s voice cracked and she stormed out of the room with Sean presumably following close behind. Making sure she doesn’t do something too rash as her demeanor may have seemed.

John had left; this time for good. So it appeared as if people were beginning to lose faith in Dutch. Blackwater had been a disaster, and since then lady luck went away too. Their own misfortune carried with them since then. Running, losing people like Mac, people running away, Arthur’s blindness, and Micah’s now inevitable death of septic or TB, and everything else that had gone horribly wrong since then.

He felt so alone in that room with nobody in it, but himself. It seemed like a luxury to be alone nowadays, but right now he could use some company. Ever since he’d been kidnapped he liked someone’s background noise to keep him grounded so it wouldn’t feel like he was being stared at. How long would it be until Colm kidnapped him again, and this time would he actually rape him successfully? 

The questions felt like they would float in his head forever. He got up and paced around the room searching for his cane. Stir crazy as some would call it. The camp had practically subjected him to ‘the rest cure’. The only difference was that he could at least talk and move his limbs somewhat. Best of all feed himself. If he had to stay in the room too much longer he swore that the walls will begin to talk to him. 

After some searching of trial and error he found the cane and went downstairs, and thanked Hosea in his head for teaching him when nobody was around. He managed to find the door quick enough and went through it. A shrill voice had him retreating in his own skin. 

“Mr. Morgan! If you don’t march yourself back on to your room I’ll have Karen do it for you!” Susan threatened him. 

“Nah, I prefer to be right here,” Arthur sat down on the porch enjoying the fresh breeze not mixed with the house’s draft. Susan made a noise of incomprehensible words in frustration. 

“KAREN!!!” She shrieked much to the disgust of a lot of people in camp. 

“What!” Karen groaned stomping over to them. 

“Can you take Mr. Morgan up to his room. I have to make sure Pearson is making enough food for him because I swear he’s lost weight,” Susan said annoyed crossing her arms. Arthur could hear the friction of fabric rubbing on fabric. An irritating sound. 

“Maybe because he keeps vomiting from how much you feed him,” more noises of unknown frustration. 

“Just take him back up there, carry him if you have to,” Susan walked off. Karen took ahold of his arm and forced him to his feet. 

“You look fine. Still too skinny yes, but you look a lot better now than before she started your diet. We just care is all. I don’t blame you for trying to escape that dreary room,” Karen started and made sure the door closed behind him. “So give me the details and spare no expense.” Her demeanor changed. 

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked not being very compliant to her dragging him. 

“You and Dutch. I know you two are together so tell me. I promise to keep a secret,” Karen giggled and was more playful with dragging him up the steps. 

“You and secrets is like or was like John and water. The two don’t go together,” Arthur refused becoming less compliant. 

“I’ll make some of your food disappear so you don’t vomit as much,” she offered. 

“Deal, but you promised to keep it a secret too,” he immediately agreed. 

“I keep my word,” she took him into his room and closed the door behind her. Arthur sat down back on his bed. 

“Ok. I’ve had a thing for him for years-“ he started feeling his face heat up. 

“Some people are gonna owe me some money,”

“KAREN!”

“Fine.” She begrudgingly agreed. 

“Well we are together...It was only while I was captive that I thought I was going to die, and I realized that I should stop being so cowardly with my family,” he faced away and could feel the blush on his cheeks. 

“So sweet,” she squealed with delight. “Now, tell me the more gross details. Like how is he-“ 

“We haven’t gotten that far yet. We’ve only kissed,” Arthur blushed profusely. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t talk about his private life, but to have someone else play magic with his food that he’d throw up was better. 

“Ohhhhh! You are such a sweetheart! I wish my men were as sweet on me as Dutch is to you!” Karen was a gossip, but she was fun to talk to. 

“Can you not. I swear I look like a tomato,” Arthur tried to hide under his blanket. 

“Well...guess that’s why Dutch hasn’t laid a finger on Molly in weeks. Only has eyes for you,” She pulled the blanket off his head. 

“Honestly forgot she existed,” Arthur smiled. 

“Well she’s shows up drunk and angry to camp and yells at Dutch then goes away to Saint Denis. Good riddance to her, I could never stand her,” Karen said smugly. The women hated Ms. Molly O'Shea more than anyone else at camp. Arthur hummed in amusement. “Ms. Grimshaw will be up soon with more food. I’ll make sure to lighten the load of it for you.” 

She patted his head and motioned for him to lie down. “I hate being bedridden. I swear I’ve been stuck in a bed since the time I accidentally drank poison,” he grumbled irritated with the entire situation. 

She chuckled, “And I am the only one who thinks you didn’t try to kill yourself. If you ever need to talk to someone who’ll listen you can always talk to me.” 

“Thanks,” he said just as he assumed Susan walked in by the quick footsteps. 

“Dutch,” Karen said more for Arthur than anything. 

“If it’s okay with you I would like to talk to Arthur in private.” He commanded. Soft footsteps left the room shutting the door behind her as well. Dutch sat down on the bed. Instinctively Arthur sat up and wrapped his arms around Dutch who melted into his arms. “He really isn’t going to come back. Before I came back, I ran into him, in Saint Denis, near the docks. John was jittery and nervous and I rode it off on maybe some bad news, but I just got back to see the letter.”

“I’ll miss him too…” Arthur spoke what they both thought. Dutch leaned down on his shoulder and cried for the first time in front of anyone in decades. Just holding him close to him and holding himself together he may have let a few tears loose. 

Their lips collided in a twist of passion and grief. The two had still yet to say the three little words to each other. They kissed until they were about to pass out, and Arthur broke off the kiss. Before Dutch leaned back Arthur backed off. 

“It’s not the right time. People will miss you. It’s the afternoon,” Arthur said disappointed. A hand gently tilted his chin up and he still blushed from being stared at. 

“Then we can be quick,” Dutch promised him. 

“I want you then,” he felt the blush creep up more on his face and held Dutch’s face in his hands rubbing the pads of his thumbs over Dutch’s features. Dutch dominated him back into a kiss forcing him to lean back. 

Fingers fumbled on his shirt and slid it off. From his current angle he couldn’t unbutton Dutch’s vest without hitting his head off the wall. Sensing Arthur’s frustration he leaned Arthur so his head laid on his pillow. Arthur’s fingers roamed around until they found the buttons on Dutch. Their hands worked quick pulling off their clothing until they were under the blanket naked grinding their erections on each other gasping and moaning. 

“Relax…” Dutch purred in Arthur’s ear and then he felt Dutch push a lubed up finger in him. He couldn’t help to gasp surprised. The older man had to have been planning this out and somehow managed to lube up a few fingers without Arthur noticing. 

“Dutch,” Arthur gasped when a particular touch sent his head swimming. He ran a hand down Dutch’s back while arching his own. The other was gripped in Dutch’s raven hair. Well it was raven the last time Arthur saw it. For all he knows Dutch could’ve gone gray. His own face was flushed. The fingers were removed from him, and Dutch had stopped moving. “...what are you doing?”

“Admiring the view, and happy that we’re doing this,” he could hear Dutch’s smile. That particular tone of voice that he has when he’s truly happy. 

“Don’t look at me Dutch. It’s embarrassing,” Arthur shifted his head. Dutch took that opportunity to kiss his neck gently. 

“Sorry Arthur, I’m just that mesmerized by you. Fuck…” Dutch moaned slowly pushing himself in Arthur. 

“Oh god Dutch! I think I only slept with one guy who was bigger than you and I was on top! No wonder I heard Molly refuses to leave you alone!” Arthur quickly spurted our in pain. His breath was hitched and Dutch waited for him to adjust and relax. A few strokes of the cock never hurt as well. 

“I don’t going comparing my penis to other men’s often. I refuse to compare with other men when drunk to do that,” *Dutch rolled his eyes at the comment.* He did know he was bigger than most men and hated the competition. It was always the biggest and smallest that were made fun of. Just like how the women do that with their breasts. 

“M’ready Dutch,” Arthur gave him the go ahead and almost right after he said that Dutch set a brutally quick pace that left him out of breath. The sounds of their panting and moans were the only things that filled the air. With all the friction and overstimulation he knew he wouldn’t last long. 

That was until Dutch dropped his head to rest on the shoulder where Arthur was bit on. He shoved Dutch off so quick it hurt. The panting wasn’t just from the lack of air now. “Did I hurt you?” Dutch yelled at him concerned. 

He couldn’t catch his own breath. Like he was on the gas that they had at the doctors. His limbs were heavy and numb. Dutch wrapped his arms around him and held him for a few minutes until he caught his breath. “I’m good. I’m good,” Arthur stammered out. 

“You can talk to me you know,” Dutch reassured him. 

“You know that this isn’t the first time it’s happened,” Arthur accused.

“It doesn’t mean you should bottle it up every time. Several times a day Arthur...it’s not normal at all,” 

“Happened weeks ago. All I need to do is suck it up and get over it,”

“When has that worked,” he spat out. 

“I don’t feel like talking right now,”

“You never do,”

“Do we have to do this now? ? ?”

“We do! We need-“

“What about you? Huh? You use sex, opium, and gambling to cope! I confronted you before about it and you yelled at me! So why do you care about what I do if you’re not willing to fix yourself?”

“Because I...because I- that was a long time ago Arthur! Things were different then!”

“How so?!?”

“Because I didn’t bottle my emotions up completely; I found a vent! Also I wasn’t the one who drank poison, and try to run away!”

“That was low even for you,”

“Oh shut up I’ve heard things you’ve said,”

“Leave me be,” Arthur pulled the blanket up on himself facing the wall. 

“No because we need to talk. I’m only doing this because...because I care,” 

“Go away Dutch. I don’t want to talk to you right now,” 

“I can’t stand to see you hurt yourself anymore Arthur!”

“Why?!?” Arthur shot up almost smacking his head off of Dutch’s. 

“Because I love you...that’s why. I love you, and that’s why I can’t stand to see you hurting yourself,” 

“I love you too,” Arthur croaked out. “I don’t intend to hurt others with my own actions. I just think that nobody would care or that others would be better off.”

“I know, I know,” Dutch hugged him. Their tears mixed together.


	11. Continuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Litterally the continuation of the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad I’m on spring break. For all my peeps who have school here’s an after school treat.

They remained like that for a few minutes just holding each other. Letting their sorrows out they remained in each other’s arms. “Please talk to me,” Dutch begged of him to do. 

“It’s hard. You know that,” 

“Start with how you truly feel about you losing your vision,”

“I hate it! I can’t do anything on my own because somebody needs to help me. Never liked relying on anyone for anything n’now I have to for everything. All I was trying to do that one night was find where the booze was stashed and I almost died for it. Half of the time I wish I did! Then at least I could’ve died on my own terms,”

“We all know with the life we live that something horrible could happen to us at any time. Usually it’s a slow and painful death, but you’ve been given the opportunity to live and love again,”

“Course I know I’d die horrible, but this?...I’m a prisoner to other people. I never wanted that…and I really miss my journal. Suppose that you are right, n’that I have been given another chance, but I didn’t ask for it,”

“Life is cruel. I got my second chance...no fifth chance...years ago. Shortly after a failed heist when you were about 28 so it was the soonest time I was given another chance, but I...I have tried to kill myself multiple times. Everyone was starving and looking to me to save the day. I always keep something...anything…around this wrist so nobody can see the scars. Hosea had found me with a bottle of whiskey and a river of blood near the stream. The old man never told anyone, never did, but he screamed at me and hit me with my own bottle before he bandaged me up. Kept telling me it was the selfish way out of our life. Worse than traitors because I had tried to opt out. I just couldn’t take the pain anymore. It hurt me physically to keep going so I went away, down by the stream, and tried to end the pain because I couldn’t take another second more. The other times were under different circumstances and handled different ways by a few different people, but that was the most recent time,”

“I could tell that you were in a lot of pain, but I was never in camp around that time. When Isaac died Iost a lot of myself that day. For months I couldn’t feel. With more time to think these days; I feel everything. I feel awful, my heart feels like it’s been ripped out and squeezed. I’m terrified of Colm kidnapping me again. Don’t remembering panicking exactly, but I know it was about him. Does that make me weak to feel afraid of him?”

“No it doesn’t. Just makes you human,” he wanted to avoid talking about Colm because he didn’t want to make a promise that he couldn’t keep. 

“Do you still wanna…?” Arthur played with a few hairs on Dutch’s chest. Twirling his finger in the hair, and felt the deep chuckle come from the male before his mouth was recaptured in a kiss. 

It wasn’t long before they were both hard again. Arthur’s fingers made their way into Dutch’s raven locks and pulled his head impossible closer to his own. Dutch picked up up by his hips and lifted him into his lap and slowly guided himself in. Gasping and fully seated on Dutch he was having a hard time holding on. To which the older man only purred, “You can have all the control you want right now.”

“As much as I love the idea I’d like it if you made love to me more,” Arthur mused. 

“‘Your wish is my command’” Dutch quoted a movie that had yet to be invented. (Wesley to Buttercup- Princess Bride; my second favorite quote. If I made a fic with Jack and Milton I’d have to use Inigo’s quote) 

“How romantic,” Arthur rolled his eyes and was gently kissed, feather-soft. Lifted up by his hips he was laid back down on the bed, and his jaw was kissed up and down. Gently thrusts seemed to rock them in motion. His legs wrapped around Dutch’s waist driving the man further in him. 

The moment was perfect. He could hear Dutch’s soft pants and moans mixed with his own. Soft squeaks came from the bed as well. “Oh Arthur!” Dutch quietly moaned and Arthur leaned up for a tender kiss. Dutch’s hand found Arthur’s and entwined their fingers together and pinned their hands to the side of Arthur’s head. 

“Gaaaaaaawwwwd Dutch…” Arthur moaned in ecstasy. 

“I love you…”

“I luvvv you too…”

“I love you so much...” Dutch whispered into his ear. 

“I know...me too…”

“I’m close…” 

“Saaaaaaaame…” Arthur moaned and Dutch started stroking him in time with the thrusts that've gone uneven. Dutch came with a grunt first, but he’d pulled out and came in his handkerchief. Arthur came right after howling in ecstasy. He cleaned up Arthur as well. Unnecessary questions were unnecessary to the person who cleaned Arthur up. Being bedridden wasn’t fun. 

“I’ll see you later,” Dutch said starting to walk out of the room. 

“Wait! Dutch!” Arthur called out raising his hand. “I want to talk a little more.” Dutch sat back down on his bed and placed his hand on Arthur’s knee. Rubbing soothingly on the spot. “What’s going on around camp? Nobody tells me anything, and don’t tell me it’s nothin to worry about. It is my business too!”

“Everything’s alright. Me and some of the boys, and Karen are going to pull of a heist in Saint Denis soon. It’s all going to go according to plan,” Dutch reassured him. 

“You weren’t going to tell me if I hadn’t asked, were you?” Arthur accused blatantly, and Dutch remained silent. “Unbelievable Dutch.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, you’re still sick,”

“Are you going to treat me like I’m glass forever? I’m still me,” 

“I’m sorry Arthur. It’s just hard for me right now because I came so close to losing you. I nearly drank myself to death one day out of guilt. Almost got caught by bounty hunters, but I was so pitiful that they didn’t believe that I was me,”

“Nobody treated me like this before when I almost died other times. Like you said that’s the risk we took with this life we live,”

“It was different this time. There was nothing we could do to help or ease your stuffing with the fever. You looked dead when reverend was reading you your last rights. You were so gray and white that everyone was shocked that you had your eyes open for a minute. Then when you pulled through it you even still look sickly,” 

“I don’t feel sick anymore and yeah I’ll probably be always look sick for the rest of my life, but that’s the way it is,” 

“Suppose that’s true,”

“I’ll feel a lot better once I’m allowed outside and able to move again,” Arthur smiled. 

“Tomorrow I’ll take you on a walk against doctor’s orders, but for now rest,” Dutch gave him a light peck.


	12. Hopeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meh, honestly I could’ve gone a bunch of different directions with this one. Fuck!, I should’ve had the heist go right and a stand-off in it between the three sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I can write *sarcastic*. Eh I can but I’m justa big bundle of joy. Fun fact on a personality test I’m almost equal in personality to both Micah and Dutch. I had a plan and made the test and then I got that. 
> 
> Here’s the link:
> 
> https://www.gotoquiz.com/red_dead_redemption_2_personality_test

Arthur rested until he was being drug out of bed by Susan. “We need to leave Arthur! Mr. Smith just came back and with bad news! The Pinkertons are on their way! Hosea...Abigail...Lenny…they’re gone. Uncle...Tilly...Strauss ran off. It’s just us Mr. Smith, Jack, Kieran, Mr. McGuire, and Mr. Swanson. The rest ran off out of the country,”

“What?!” Arthur gasped shocked. Poor Jack was orphaned, and the man who essentially raised him was dead. He let himself be hauled along by Susan. Gunshots rang out in the distance before he had time to process any of this. 

“O’DRISCOLLS!!!” Sean screamed from outside. He heard Susan mutter some curses under her breath. A hand gripped his hair and pulled him away from Susan with a yell. He didn’t need to hear the voice to know who it was. The edge of a blade pressed up against his throat. 

“PINKERTONS!!!” A random O’Driscoll yelled. More gunshots and people fleeing. 

“Fancy meeting you two here,” Agent Milton’s voice chimed over the gunfire. Remembering what the agent said before he relaxed slightly. 

Chaos. Utter chaos. 

“Not you again,” Colm growled backing himself and Arthur up into a corner. 

“Unfortunately yes it is me, and put the knife down. You three are coming with me. Arthur will be detained for questioning because do you know how bad it is to kill a blind man? Really bad press. You will be hung, and the lady here will go to prison forever,” Agent Milton told them. 

“How about I cut the boy’s throat right now in front of everybody,” Colm dug the knife into his throat hard enough to draw blood. Arthur swung and elbow back instinctively fast and escaped his grip and was yanked backwards by something. Though he thinks it was to narrowly dodge a knife. 

“Too slow Mr. O’Driscoll. You know why it’s even worse for Mr. Morgan to die? Well the press would have a field day since he the reason he went blind was because he was doing charity work. Helping the sick, or more specifically sick children. The people would lynch us lawmen real quick and that’s not very good, no it’s not. You will be hung tomorrow at high noon sir along with a few others in your gang,” it was clear to Arthur that Milton was the one to save him. 

“What’ll happen to Mr. Morgan?” Susan asked taking a step forward. The rickety wood of the house wouldn’t last too much longer. 

“He’ll be questioned and released. Let him be the church’s problem. They’ll take care of anyone and say it’s a loving act for godliness. If you ask me, from what I’ve seen in this line of work. Anyone, and I mean anyone, would be a damned fool to think that heaven and hell exist. If anything this world is hell and lawmen are the ones taming it while you wretches are demons,”

“I’ll see my brother in hell so enough, but not tomorrow,” Colm spat while Milton laughed. 

“I wish you luck. Mr. Morgan you’ll ride with me and Agent Ross. Gentlemen please kindly escort the other two out,” he drug Arthur alongside him and Agent Ross helped him into the wagon. 

“Well if this is hell then I can see why I was punished for doing a good deed. You’re more cynical than most people I’ve ever met,” Arthur told Milton while trying to get comfortable in the seat in between the two men. 

“Hard not to be. I have to deal with ‘your kind’ all the time,” he answered snapping the reins. 

“Is it day or night?” Arthur asked getting no reply. He tried to listen to the sounds of the surroundings to tell him, but he couldn’t figure it out. 

“It’s sunset,” agent Ross answered after an amount of time. “The sun is setting behind us.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said clenching his fists. The adrenaline from earlier was wearing off and he was now trying to not have an anxiety attack because of Colm O’Driscoll. Also because Dutch was MIA. There was also if the others got out of Shady Belle. So much stress. 

He didn’t want to think. The men next to him would make sure to get information out of him. What little he had anyways. Nobody told him anything anything for the most part. The sick need to rest not worry as they’d say. 

All he knows now that he is in some office in Saint Denis. Sitting in a chair more comfortable than the bed he’d been sleeping on for the past month. If he could see he would know for a fact that his knuckles were white. He believed he fell asleep at some point because when he woke up something paper was bonked off his head. 

“Good morning Mr. Morgan, today is a lovely day so let’s keep it that way,” someone unknown to him asked. The man had an Italian accent to him. 

“Okay?” He questioned more than said sitting up straighter in the chair. 

“Excellent! The Pinkerton men handed you over to me and my men will take it from here. Angelo Bronte…uh...right I forgot they said you were blind,” Angelo told him. Arthur assumed that the man had held his hand out to him. 

“Nice to meet your acquaintance,” ...pleasantries 

“Good, good! How much do you know about me and my men?”

“Nothin’, nobody told me much of anything once I got sick,”

“That’s quite terrible! Your gang the Van Der Linde one owes me a great debt. Perhaps you can pay me back. This is my city and the Pinkertons abide by that. Now you will pay your gangs debts by working for me,”

“How’s that possible?”

“You will serve as an example of punishment and my generosity. When needed you’ll talk about what ‘happened’ to you to people I need to intimidate. Also the low levels in my organization. Only the higher ups will know of course,”

“Will that work?”

“It will work Mr. Morgan. You will live in my house because I want you close by to show the men what we’re capable of… You were blinded by acid being dropped in your eyes while being beaten for trying to undermine my organization,”

“Why me?” 

“I need someone who can talk and not a puppet that I have to pull the strings for constantly. I like my men who can think for themselves. You understand, no?”

“Yes sir,”

“We have an agreement, wonderful,” Angelo stood up taking Arthur’s arm. “(The maids will have fun cleaning your filthy ass up) Come the maids will help clean you up.”

It wasn’t all bad. He got an actual bath. Some new clothes, and a much needed shave. After that he was taken to a room and locked in it. He wondered about the room trying to feel where he was at. There was a bed, a table and chairs he almost tripped on, a fireplace, and a vanity. Eventually he settled for sitting on the ground against the bed.

Emotions came flooding in at once. Losing essentially his father, one of his best friends, and other people he cared about was hard. The people that abandoned them too. Dutch and the others in whatever went down being so bad that they had to flee the country to not be killed. He felt abandoned, but he supposed that’s the way it would be. Dutch...his mind drifted to him and how he was saved from Colm. He knew that he wouldn’t be hung. He’d escape and come after him again, but at least this Angelo guy has real power. His body shook wracked in shivers down his body. Colm promised a painful death to him to get back at Dutch. He didn’t know where he was being held, but he felt hopeless. 

And he cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.


	13. The cursed number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s rushed, but I’m more excited for the next chapter. It’ll take awhile to write because it’s going to be long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when I’m a bit manic and caffeine high because I drank too much coffee. God I love coffee.

Angelo Bronte wasn’t horrible to him. The man was a man of his word and he supposed that’s why people trusted him. Hell that's why he ended up trusting him after a few weeks. His routine became monotonous with the occasional talking to of other people. That was until Angelo’s sister came to visit. 

She didn’t speak much English at all, but he could tell that she was speaking about him to her brother. Angelo’s tone of voice would become quiet and annoyed. Like he didn’t agree with what his sister said. Arthur could feel her gaze burning into him at times too making him very uncomfortable. On the bright side the maids were teaching him Italian at Angelo’s request. Only able to pick up a few words at a time, but he still couldn’t understand them. 

On his walks with one of the maids they’d put simple conversations into use like the weather, how they are, and describing people they knew. After talking about Dutch, Hosea, John and his family he would get depressed about it. On a particularly cool humid day in Saint Denis Mary Linton crossed their path. 

“You don’t even have the decency to greet me when we pass?” Mary chimed from behind him. 

“Sorry I didn’t see you,” he apologized to her. The maid and him turned around to face him. 

“It nice to see you again, and my you look fancy,” her voice was full of desire. 

“Same goes to you,” he lied, but wanted to be polite. 

“Are you, are you married?” She asked curious. 

“No, we’re not married. I’m just helping him get some fresh air,” the maid quickly told her. Something about the hurried way she said it unnerved Arthur and Mary. 

“I’ve lost my ability to see a few months back,” he sheepishly said. Mary’s hand found his shoulder. 

“You sweet fool, what do you do nowadays?” She asked intrigued. The maid tugged at his arm. 

“We should go now Mr. Morgan,” the maid said. Much to her discontent Mary followed along. She wrapped herself around Arthur’s other arm. He was pimping now. 

Walking through the door he heard Angelo mutter a curse after the maid spoke to him. Angelo’s sister Caterina spoke in full English for the first time since she arrived. “It’s so nice to see a friend of Arthur’s, but I’m his fiancé. I think that he forgot to say that.”

What? Is that why she’s here. That can’t be why. It has to be a cover up for what I do. Wait! No I can’t leave Saint Denis! What if Dutch comes back!

“I’m sorry miss. It’s just me and Arthur have some history,” Mary said jealousy. 

“It’s so delightful! So it’s settled, you must come to our wedding next week and you’ll be my maid of honor because it’s one of those fancy weddings! Go with one of the maids she’ll fit you for the dress!” Caterina boasted forcing her off of Arthur’s arm dragging her away. Angelo quickly took Arthur off into the kitchen. 

“On the one hand this is a better deal for you, the other it’s my sister being a bitch and wanting a husband who actually can’t run away. This is bad for me because I needed someone like you to play as an example, also because I enjoy making fun of your...hick-ness,” he quickly explained handing Arthur a drink. 

“Why does she want me other than that?” He took a sip of the drink...white wine. 

“She thinks you’re handsome and would have beautiful children, and she needs someone to not be an old hag in a few more years. My younger sister runs business in the home country. She doesn’t want any hand other than her own running it. I hate how she planned the wedding in secret. There was a reason father handed her the business that was more important to him. Compared to her I’m a Saint,” he rambled off again before being interrupted by a maid who led them into the living room. 

This was happening too fast for him. All he wanted was a damn walk and a simple conversation in Italian. Not an ex lover showing up and a surprise wedding. This was a hell of a day already. 

“Hello Mr. Bronte! It’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance!” It couldn’t be. “I’ve been...I’ve been looking forward to this meeting…”

Dutch. Dutch Van Der Linde. 

Arthur’s heart sank as he sat down in a seat. Cradling his drink close to his mouth. How? Where? His mind raced with all the questions he wanted to ask. He wanted to run into Dutch’s arms and talk, kiss, fuck, and other things right now. With every breath his heart broke even more. 

“Ah, yes Mr. Van Der Linde, a pleasure to meet you too. This is Mr. Morgan, don’t mind him he’s an invalid, but soon to be brother in law,” Arthur doesn’t think any more haterade and annoyance could’ve been put into the words ‘brother in law’. Angelo had never used the term invalid around him before either. 

Was he stuck in some goddamn dime romance novel. All this shit happening he wouldn’t be surprised. First he lost his vision doing a good deed. That gave him and Dutch the chance to become closer. Then he was captured and finally admitted his feeling for him when he thought he was going to die. After that Dutch rescued him just in time and they both shared their feelings. Dutch helped nurse him back to health and they admitted their love for each other. Then he was captured by someone powerful again, met and ex lover who still wants him-ish, and is to be in a arranged marriage, and finding out his lover is no longer missing with them unable to be together. 

I’ll give you a glass of a drink your choice to see how this shit unfolds. 

“Congratulations!!!” Dutch was always a good performer. 

“Yes, and unfortunately the wedding is soon,” Angelo said disinterested. “Then they’ll head to Italy until my sister wants to visit again. (Fucking lucky hick gets to go where I want to be. That bitch owes me big)” 

Arthur jolted his head up shocked, but didn’t say anything. Only downing the rest of his drink in one sip. Leaving for Italy that soon? It had to be a joke, unless...unless Caterina was that desperate to find a loyal husband that she came here to force someone’s hand in marriage. 

“(You’re joking right)?” Arthur asked Angelo. 

“(Unfortunately I’m not. She is going to bring you to Italy very soon.)” Angelo tried to speak more simply to Arthur’s language level. The cup Arthur was holding was filled back up. An excuse for the private conversation. “Anyway Mr. Van Der Linde I’m tasking you and your gang with clearing out the night folk in the forest. They’re a menace when the Brathweights so night deliveries. The mother is not happy with how many sons she has lost. You do that and you’re in with me.”

“We’ll do that tonight.” Dutch accentuated with dead seriousness. 

“Tonight? Well I shall see you tomorrow then,” Angelo got up presumably to ‘seal the deal’. 

“Deal,” Dutch gruffed. He heard Bill clear his throat. Arthur hadn’t even noticed he was there. Thank whatever force was out there that made sure that Mary didn’t come downstairs at that time. The women would recognize Dutch instantly and blow their how they know each other. 

Caterina seemed to enjoy throttled Mary around until Mary nearly ran out saying she’d be there for the wedding. After chasing the competition out she sat down next to Arthur and wrapped her hand around his. She whispered to him so only he could hear, “You’re mine now.” Pecking his cheek she then said loud, “I can’t wait to show you Italy!”

“Cut the shit Caterina,” Angelo tipsily slurred. 

“Oh whatever do you mean dear brother?” She responded oh so ever innocently. 

“I know why you want him, and I don’t approve of it,”

“I don’t care for your approval. Me and Arthur will marry, go back to Italy, and I shall remain the most powerful person in the country. Father always did like me better,”

“...*growls*...”

She’d purposely spoke in English for Arthur to fully understand. She didn’t care he knew, but she didn’t care to make it not known either. 

At night while lying in bed he heard tapping at his window. Drawn to the sound he got out of bed and opened it. The cool night breeze kissed his face. Though the air still smelled like shit even in the middle of the night. “Arthur,” Dutch whispered not too far away. 

“Dutch! You can’t be here. If they find out!-“ Arthur quickly whispered. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he heard Dutch climbing the tree right out his window. Ok if he felt like he wasn’t in Mary-Beth’s story books before he surely did now. Say, where did she go? He waited until Dutch climbed inside the room and hugged him tightly.

“I’d ask you what happened, but I just want to enjoy the moment that we have together,” Arthur murmured lulled by Dutch’s presence. The older man smelled like home. 

“I’ve missed you so much…” Dutch almost cried. Well physically a few tears did hit Arthur’s head. A few of Arthur’s own soaked into Dutch’s vest that Arthur had curled himself against. 

“Me too, everyday,” Arthur tried to keep himself composed. Every fiber of his being wanted him and Dutch to run, but he’d never make it down the tree safely or without alerting anyone. 

Dutch caressed Arthur’s cheek and pulled him into a solom kiss. 

“I’ll figure something out,” Dutch promised Arthur breaking off the kiss. 

“Please think of something soon. I...I don’t…” 

“I won’t let that happen,”

“I’m trying to believe you, but...I don’t want to be taken away from this country with someone I don’t know just to be an item,” 

“I will find a way,” he sealed the promise with a kiss. “Just give me some more time.”

“I trust you,” Arthur kissed him lightly on the cheek. Wrapping his arms tighter around him. 

“The others will wonder what I’m doing here. I have to go back, but let me tuck you in first,”

“I have to lock the window otherwise someone might get suspicious,”

“Alright,” he started hugging Arthur even closer to him. “I love you.” Dutch let him go and started his journey back. 

“I love you too,” Arthur told him before shutting the window leaving him to himself. 

The days went by like a blur. Somehow Dutch and a few other in the gang ended up getting wedding invites. He supposed that it would be easier to get him back that way. The worst guests were Mary and her family, and some of the O’Driscolls. Before he knew it he was standing in a suit in his room talking to one of the maids who was crying because she didn’t want him to go. 

Angelo was never happy about the arrangement. Apparently his sister had been planning it since her brother had told her about him over the Telegraph. He’d been drinking heavily the past week. There was a point before it was announced that he could stop her, but wasn’t able to once she forced Mary to be her maid of honor. 

The maid led him to where he was supposed to stand. They had two marriage licenses signed and a minister licensed for both countries. By all means he was married in both Italy and America soon. He hoped Dutch and the gang will be able to pull through it. Colm vs Dutch vs Caterina. Who would strike first in the gangs with Caterina and her brother on the defense. 

This was one of the moments he wished he could see. All the people whispering around him was overwhelming. Talk of the day. Angelo was by default his best man. 

“My father actually came. Our father! The man swore to never leave the city again after he handed my sister the empire basically. He always liked her better…on the bright side he complimented me for finding her a husband,” he said drunkenly. 

“I thought he was dead from how you two talk,” Arthur said hushed his hands held behind his back in wait. 

“Dead to me,” Angelo slurred losing balance tripping to the ground. Arthur held a hand down to him and the mob boss took it. 

“Felt the same way about my father, but he passed when I was young,” he pulled him back to his feet. 

“Italian Italian Italian words” the priest said. (Hahaha I don’t know how to write a fancy wedding) 

…

The ceremony was a blur and soon it was the reception. Wedding band and a married man now. Caterina being loud and happy told him all the visible details of everything. The food was good. The cake was good. All was good until a knife was pressed up against his throat. 

“Nobody move! Lemone Raiders!” The man behind him shouted. 

“Not those assclowns again,” a faint voice said in annoyance. 

“O’Driscolls, stand up and armed!” Colm shouted. 

“Boy’s stand up and make the Brathwaite name proud!” A old lady yelled. 

“You didn’t think it’d be a party without me!” Dutch laughed. 

“Somebody get me another drink of the strong stuff?” Angelo asked. 

“Umm...Pinkertons?” A rando spoke. 

“Those assholes are here lurking around making us common law do their work,” a lawman said. 

“This is a party Angelo Bronte!” Agent Milton yelled from afar. “The lot of you are going to hang!” 

(From afar just for the readers in the limited perspective of Arthur: Angelo says, “It’s a good day when a plan comes together. Dumb Americans, Caterina, and father.”) 

Chaos ensues.

Shots left and right. Screams here and there. Arthur crawled under the table when the lemone raider got shot. He hid under there until people were reaching for him to drag him away. The barrel of a gun collided with his temple.

It hurt bad. Blood ran down the side of his face. Too warm. Too warm. His legs gave out and people let him go. A few people called out his name, but they sounded too far away. He shut his eyes.


	14. Someday, but not today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What comes after-ish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to be longer, but the last half hour I was writing this made me sad, and so I didn’t check over to add. I meant for this to be a happy chapter. It’s a beautiful sadness UggGgGGg!!! Also it’s 4am and I’ve been writing this for three hours. Happy wensday!!!

Arthur woke to the sounds of the songbirds. He didn’t move, but he could tell that he was on his cot and that the coffee was being brewed. Sharply inhaling the scents of the coffee and the nice breeze he opened his eyes, and couldn’t believe. 

He could see again. 

Bolting out of the cot he ran outside the tent not noticing it was Dutch’s and took in the view. Brilliant billowing blue skies blustered brightly in the horizon. Gracious green grass and leaves as far as he could see. Frivolous flowers flowered the fields fueling the forever herbivorous friendly animals. ( :P ; I hate me too for doing that, but I had to)

“Be careful Arthur! You hit your head pretty hard!” Dutch’s deep voice chimed while gently wrapping and arm around his waist to lead him away from the cliff. “There’s a cliff right there. You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“Dutch! I can see! I can see it! I can see you! I’ve missed seeing you so much!” Arthur nearly manically exclaimed tugging at Dutch’s sleeve. The older man pulled him into a hug and cried with joy. 

“I’m so happy! Remember when you said you wanted to go out riding? We can do it today. If you want to?” He kissed Arthur tenderly and Arthur didn’t want to close his eyes to it because what if he couldn’t see when he reopened them. When he reopened his eyes he still could, and stared into Dutch’s loving ones. 

“I’d love that,” Arthur beamed. 

“Before dinner so we can see the sunset on the mountains,” Dutch murmured gazing into Arthur’s pale blue brilliant eyes. 

“It’s a date,” he murmured back tracing his eyes all over Dutch’s features not wanting to forget a thing about them. If he could somehow commit it to memory then he’d never forget, and go on seeing forever. In his own mind at least. 

The cup of mucky brown coffee that he got tasted exceptionally good today. John stuck up a conversation with him. Naturally this led to some questions. Being the fact that John had left a note, and that Dutch saw him at the docks. 

“Now I know what you’re going to say Morgan,” John threw his hands up defensively. “But I came back. When I was standing on the docks I thought about my family- not just Abigail and Jack, but you, Dutch, and Hosea. I couldn’t just abandon everyone so I came back. Can you forgive me?”

“Hosea and Abigail…” Arthur started, but trailed off staring at the reflection in his coffee. He heard John laugh and snapped his head up about to say something. 

“They’re fine Arthur!” He laughed heartily. “They’re resting up all fine. You looked so pissed at me for a moment that if you had your gun I’d be afraid for my life.”

“Sure always do a damn good job of nearly getting yourself killed,” Arthur remarked staring straight at John’s scars. 

“You know I do, but seriously how are you? Don’t seem to be trying to be searching for something that isn’t there with your eyes right now,” John commented looking for where Arthur was staring at in his mind.

“Woke up, opened my eyes, and could see again. M’real happy about it,” Arthur half grinned and John practically lept on him for the hug. 

“Me, you, and the boys need to go riding sometime soon. Oh! And also Karen. She’d kill me if I didn’t let her come,” John quickly conjured up shifting from foot to foot. 

“I ain’t going anywhere John. I’m still here,” Arthur smiled taking a sip of the bitter coffee. Oh how the smell calmed his nerves and made the pain go away. A drink makes him feel more human. 

“You’re my brother Arthur, and I just wish that I was there sooner,” John nearly cried, and he was fighting back the tears. Arthur could see the build up of the water in his eyes and hugged John back. 

“You’re my brother as well, always have, always will,”

“Thank you Arthur,” the two let go and went about their business at the camp. Susan handed him a nice plate of breakfast with a smile and went away with nothing more to add. He was worried for a moment that she was going to watch him eat the entire plate and more. 

Sitting down at the wooden table he talked to Hosea, John, and Jack. John was actually being a father for once in his goddamn life. Laughing and playing with Jack to get him to eat his breakfast. Arthur and Hosea talked about philosophy mostly, and about what went on these past few months. 

Philosophy...a complicated subject to much controversy. 

They talked about life, death, why they exist, why were they able to have this conversation and more. Bored of the conversation John let Jack throw his food to Cain. The dog enjoyed his table scraps. Well...it wasn’t much breakfast food, but it was meat, potatoes, and some fresh fruit picked straight from the bush. 

The grooves in the wood of the plates, and spoons captivated much of Arthur’s attention. He didn’t realize how much he missed that. How much he needed that. The fine detail that it took to carve such a product that he found himself being forced back into the conversation. 

After he was finished eating and talking he went to his stuff. On the way there everything was bright and perfect looking. Diving into his stuff in his search he found what he wanted. His journal. He held it up to his nose and smelled it. Deeply inhaling it with his eyes closed. It smelled perfect, and made him feel safe. Like Dutch did. 

Slowly he opened up the journal, savoring every moment of it. It was something he’d dreamed of for months of doing again. When all was said and done writing down his new entry that took an hour to write he shut it and took his satchel. He opened up the beautiful leather material and gently set his treasure in. 

At perfect timing Dutch walked up to him. “I have a new plan,” Dutch motioned to walk with him. “How about we go to Saint Denis and get some ice cream?”

“Aren’t we wanted there?” Arthur followed him closely with Dutch slowing down enough to be able to wrap an arm around his waist. To Arthur’s surprise, nobody noticed or cared. 

“Yeah we’re wanted everywhere, but we’ll be fine,” Dutch assured him with a kiss on the forehead. 

(Just as an FYI I think Dutch is taller since I play in first person and I’m always tilting the camera up to look at him, and my does he look handsome) 

“If you say so Dutch,” Arthur chuckled slightly staring in awe of the majestic horses. Petting them as they came up earning a laugh from Dutch. 

“They seem all friendly right now to you. Remember that that one is yours?” He pointed to the one that Arthur was petting. 

“No, I thought that mine was a solid color with a gray mane. But she’s beautiful!” Arthur beamed petting the majestic horse. It was a grey coated mere with white, brown, and black spots. It’s mane was a platinum blond. 

“Well if you don’t mind it like to ride with you,” Dutch spun Arthur into a hug making him blush so red. He tried to hide his face behind his hand. Watching Dutch through it. Dutch’s raven colored hair poked through more noticeable. 

“You make me blush too much. Don’t you have any shame?” Arthur asked avoiding the penetrative stare. 

“Why should I. I love you, and you love me,” he didn’t flinch at all to Arthur’s discontent. 

“And we’re a great big happy family,” Arthur pointed to the camp freeing his face. He took advantage of the moment and cupped Arthur’s face and gave him a quick peck before letting him go. Slightly shocked for the surprise he didn’t notice that Dutch was already up on the horse. 

“I’ll help you up,” Dutch’s hand was extended out. 

“How the hell d’you get up there so fast? Swear it was less than a second,” he asked confused taking his love’s hand. Had Dutch gotten stronger or was he just that thin still? Because the man pulled him up without moving, applying any effort, or displaying any discomfort. Like he weighed nothing. 

“Come on Arthur,” Dutch wrapped his arms around his waist and laid his head on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not sure I know where to go to get out of the forest and onto the main road, and more importantly to the city,” Arthur voiced his concern. 

“You worry too much,”

“You don’t worry enough,” Arthur accused him. He snapped the reins to get his mere to move. 

“I’ll work on that, for you because I want you to be happy. You haven’t been very happy, and I want to make you so happy like you wouldn’t believe. The money we have is good and we can go out west and get a ranch together. All of us. I want to give you a happy domestic life where you don’t have to worry about getting shot or hung all the time. To forget everything out here. Unfortunately this isn’t real. The life we live, we don’t get to do that, but...for you I’ll find a way. I will. Just have some more faith in me Arthur. I need some more time,” Dutch explained as Arthur steered the horse. The younger man ignored the sentence that was...off...that he said. 

“Keep waiting for something good to happen, but it feels like a lot more shit bad that happens than good, n’I can’t help but to think...is it worth it? I mean really…all this pain for a moment,” Arthur philosophized drifting off into his mind ignoring the road. 

“Think about it this way, is the little moments worth the pain. I certainly enjoy the little moments when I’m with you. They make up for the bad,” Dutch held him tighter. 

“We’re already here?” Arthur looked up at the sign. He hadn’t even noticed that they were in the swamps as he glanced behind him. 

“Told you not to worry,” he heard smugly voiced in his ear. 

“Something's going on Dutch, and it’s worrying me,” Arthur’s brows knit in concern. 

“Do you want to take a nap at a inn right after we grab our ice cream?” Dutch asked him. “You could stay here.”

“No, no I’m fine,” Arthur rubbed his head in pain where the gun hit his temple and didn’t find any sign that he was ever hit. Startled he opened his eyes wide in realization that he didn’t see it in his reflection in the coffee as well. 

What he realized next almost made him panic. He was in a inn room lying on a bed with Dutch sitting in a rocking chair across the room. Sitting up he got up and lit the match next to the candle. In the vanity he watched himself. He looked the exact same as the morning he did when he helped the doctor. 

“Wake up Arthur or you’re going to die!”

He was back to being in the bed and it was night now. Dutch was leaning over him still in the rocking chair. When he saw that he was awake Dutch sighed in relief, “I think you hit your head harder than you thought. You’ve been talking crazy all day. Some more sleep should help.”

“No, no, I don’t want to. I need to get up,” Arthur incoherently mumbled trying to sit up, but ended up being held down by Dutch. 

“You are hurt. I shouldn’t have made you come out this far away from camp yet. Sleep Arthur, just sleep for now. I’m right here with you. Please just sleep,” Dutch begged him and he felt his eyelids growing heavier. 

“Don’t die on me Arthur!” It was so faint, but it jolted him back awake. 

“I’m sorry Dutch. I just want to move around. We can stay here all day and… and I really want to watch the sunset with you while eating ice cream with you. It’s so sweet of you to do that, and all I’ve been doing is worrying you,” Arthur admitted not knowing what he’d been seeing and hearing was true, but he was too startled to go to sleep. 

Dutch smiled and crawled in the bed with him and held him to his chest. “It’s alright,” he cooed. “We can lay here until the sun is up, alright? I know that you don’t feel well, but I just worry.”

“Alrighty,” Arthur snuggled up in Dutch’s warmth. The air around them was cold. It pulled him to the brink of sleep, but he couldn’t fall asleep. He kept hearing a familiar cry in his ear. 

After what felt like a day the sun came up and the two set out for their day in the city. Nobody cared about their relationship at all and they enjoyed public displays of affection. Colm was hung at nine, and it was of much delight to the two as they watched the man who’d promised such harm end. They picked up a stray toy fox terrier puppy from a box. The pup had large ears and enjoyed their lunch of fried fish out at the park. 

The three played fetch and watched the pup leap into the water to grab the stick out from the water. When it would hit land again it’s prance was adorable. Almost like a horse’s. 

Him and Dutch walked the city streets taking turns holding the dog. It was a lovely sweet day, but it felt too short. The sun was about to set and they went to the docks. Dutch told him that he’d be right back with ice cream cones, and left him with the dog. The pup was asleep on his lap as he waded his feet in the rippling water. A tap on the shoulder caught his attention. 

Micah, but he looked like he was dead. He held a finger to his mouth and shushed him. 

“Don’t fall asleep, he’s lying,” Micah whispered disappearing like dust in the wind revealing Dutch carrying two cones. Dutch had chocolate, and Arthur had strawberry. 

“Something the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Dutch said handing him the cone with the bright pink ice cream. 

“Think I did,” Arthur glanced at his reflection in the water. Dutch’s arm was already around him. Like he’d teleported. 

“You’ll be better soon,” he rubbed Arthur’s arm reassuringly. Arthur couldn’t eat his ice cream. “A good night's sleep will do wonders for you. Less stress, less hallucinations, and you’ll be so much more happier.” 

“Am I dead?” He looked straight in Dutch’s eyes. The pupils unmoving, but still found sorrow. His own filled with sadness, pain and tears. Dutch wiped a stray tear away. 

“Sorta yes, sorta no. It’s complicated. You fall asleep here and you’ll remain here, in you and your loved ones heaven. Some people were real like Hosea, Lenny, Sean, and a few others, but most are still alive. Hosea was the only one comfortable talking to you. He was trying to help you decide if you want to stay or go back to living. Things went crazy once you left camp because people tend to stay in camp. Bessie was at camp, but you didn’t notice...Annabelle is with her born family, but most of the gang only has each other. You hit your head really hard still and you’re just floating between two worlds. Most of the stuff was idealized to you, and I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but...but your own perception of me wants to be so honest that I can’t not tell you. You could die any time you want by falling asleep to stay, or...you can explore this world longer, but you risk dying outside of the world trapping you in here. To leave *sighs* jump in the water and drown yourself. It’ll work. I can give Hosea the dog to hold onto for when you really do die,” he took the sleeping pup from Arthur’s lap. 

“Was any of this real?” 

“My feelings, and the actual passed were real. This pup was real. He was the runt of the litter so his mama abandoned him by leaving him for dead. Real sweet pup. Even though I’m just your perception of Dutch, everything I felt was real. I wanted you to stay, but you still have the chance to actually live. You only live once, and I’m sure that the people that love and care for you out there want you, right now, to pull through and live. It was selfish of me to try and force you to stay here for me. I’m technically not even real. I’ll just turn back into the others perceptions soon after you’re gone, and you’ll be their perceptions until you come back here after you die,”

“That was too heavy. Even though I had the most fun in my life today...I think I want to endure being alive longer. I’ll miss you, and the others though,” Arthur hugged the pseudo Dutch one last time. 

“I know,” he said. Arthur looked around one last time before slipping into the water. Taking in that one last view before losing his sight again. He swam down as far as he could before taking a deep breath. 

………………………………….

He breathed rapidly once he could draw in breath and fluttered his eyes open to be greeted by darkness again. Strong arms wrapped around him. “Thank god,” Dutch cried into his shirt. Weakly Arthur wrapped his arms, or laid them on Dutch. 

“I’m here, I’m alive and I ain’t going anywhere for now. I love you Dutch,” Arthur quickly spurted out. 

“I love you so much Arthur. I thought I lost you. You almost stopped breathing a few times. I was so afraid that you’d left me,” Dutch trembled against him. 

“With you now and I’m breathing. Let’s just enjoy now,” Arthur proposed wanting to sleep. He yawned lazily. 

“Whatever you need I will do it for you,” Dutch leaned up and kissed Arthur’s chin. 

“Someday Dutch, would you want to get married?” Arthur asked him. 

“I’d love that plan, and look you coming up with the plans,” Dutch held him gently careful as to not move him. 

“It’s something I dreamed about that could happen,” 

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,”

“Someday, but not today,” Arthur yawned again. 

“Goodnight Love,” Dutch caressed his cheek lightly.


	15. After much due time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate summaries because they’re hard to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I’ve been on a creative slump since I’ve gotten ill. Not saying I’m better, but I managed something. (I have no appetite so I’ve been not really eating still) The last couple of paragraphs were written by today me. The rest was weeks ago me. I’m gonna try doing more narration, but I’m very partial to my dialogue.
> 
> Let me know what you think.

Arthur groaned and tried to move when he woke up. Unfortunately for him he was quickly forced to lie back down with strong hands oh his shoulders. “Muh head fucking hurts,” Arthur complained giving into laying back down. 

“I’ll get you some water to drink, but stay laying down,” Dutch brushed a strand of hair off of his cheek before he left the...room?

Swarms of emotions flooded his mind. Where was he? Where did Dutch go? Why was he where he was? Just lots of where’s and some how’s. 

Dutch came back into the room almost as quickly as he left. Sitting down on the bed he helped Arthur drink it. 

“I don’t like being babied Dutch,” Arthur griped. 

“Well you were unconscious for days,” Dutch sighed shifting to be more comfortable on the bed. 

“Are we rocking? Like on a boat?” Arthur asked trying to sit up again and Dutch kept him from doing that. 

“Said you were out for days...and even though I don’t want to tell you right now I will. *That woman* got you and drug you on this fancy boat. I’m assuming we’re on our way to Europe. A few of the others are with us. I had to bribe a lot to sneak you here. We’re in cabin that’s for a worker. Let’s just say the Bronte’s aren’t liked by them, and-“

“Hosea’s dead…” Arthur teared up. The older man’s hand found his. 

“Yeah,” Dutch sniffled. “Him and a few others. How...how?-“

“Now isn’t the time and place, but I know, I know. Do you think we’re…”

“We’ll leave on the stop at Spain, and...we’ll...we’ll head back to the states and get the others and disappear…You know...all I ever did my entire life is fight, and...and I forgot why I fought years ago for so long...I guess...or I suppose that it was because I believe that my father died for nothing. He died fighting for something that failed in my mind...Guess I tried to make that happen, but all I want now is to live in peace with you and all the others that made it,”

“You had your reasons, and people who believed in it. Much people can hope for is to follow their morals and die happy knowing they’ve upheld them. At least I know that I’d die happy if it meant that I kept myself until the end,”

“Can see Hosea rubbed off on you a lot,” Dutch chuckled letting go of Arthur’s hand momentarily. When it came back it was wet with tears. 

“I’m happy knowing that we have the chance to live,” Arthur smiled sitting up leaning against Dutch. His hand was gently squeezed. 

“I love you too,” Dutch kissed his forehead. 

“My head still hurts a lot,” Arthur murmured letting a few more tears escape. 

“Surprised you aren’t dead. We all thought you were going to lose you, but I wouldn’t get hit in the head again. Next time will kill you I’m sure,” Dutch tensed up. 

“I’m here, I’m alive. Please don’t treat me like I’m glass,” Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“For how long. You are like a magnet for this sort of shit,” Dutch rubbed his own onsetting headache. 

“Sitting on a shelf like a china doll isn’t living. All I would do is just exist. I understand that you’re worried, but-“

“If you woulda died like you almost did multiple times! I would have painted this room red! I can’t live through heartbreak again!” Dutch yelled his voice trembled like his body did. “I’m scared of losing you. We’ve lost so much already...I can’t...I just can’t…”

Dutch clung to him and wept. Arthur held him, shushing him, and cooing him until he calmed down. Eventually Dutch fell asleep against him. His breathing steady against Arthur’s chest. Laid against the soft sheets with his hand playing with Dutch’s dark locks he whispered to him. 

“I understand you worry about losing me; I worry about losing me too, but don’t worry. There is a place were we all will go. All the people we love and that love us back go to be together. Annabelle wasn’t there, but that’s good for me because I don’t want to share your affections. I’m a jealous man, and you know that from when I was younger. But in that place...we’re all happy, we can do what we want, and we’re not limited by what we don’t have. There was this dog and it was the cutest little thing I ever saw. I played fetch with the pup, and I miss the pup, but Hosea’s taking care. Also I could see and everything was beautiful. I’d never tell you this when you’re awake because you’d call me crazy, but it feels like I have while you’re asleep,” Arthur kissed Dutch’s forehead lightly. “Goodnight my love, you need the sleep more than me.” The sounds of Dutch’s light snoring lulled him to sleep. 

If I was to live again with all my knowledge being wiser.  
I wouldn’t change a single thing.   
Through all the heartbreak and pain,  
reality is finally better than my dreams. 

“Dutch!” Javier called out waking Arthur up. Always was a light sleeper, and Dutch had to be very sleep deprived to not have woken up to that. 

“What!?” Arthur growled irritated. 

“We’re about to be at the Spain stop, and I’m glad that you’re awake now,” Javier said. “But we need to get going.”

Dutch hummed to signal that he heard him. 

“If the Bronte’s goons are around then how are we to get out?” Arthur asked sitting up leaving Dutch to slump onto the mattress with a groan. 

“You’ll be in a wheelchair with a lot more bandages. To look like you’re here for the hospital. Dutch will be in a...dress thing...of the Japanese. Traded shit off of people. It was the best that I could get ahold of for you two,”

“I don’t want to wear it,” Dutch grumbled. 

“Tough shit because you’re the only one who could pass off in it. I have to look like I’m in the army. Sean has to wear a lady’s outfit and cling onto me. Karen had to cut her hair for her outfit. Bill is pissed that he has to look like a doctor to cart Arthur around, but I don’t think you want to trade with Micah to have his illness as a disguise. Nobody wants to get near him like that,”

“Fuck,”

“Get up ya grump I’m starving,” Arthur shook Dutch’s shoulder til he got up. 

“I’ll grab you something to eat while I get the others,” Javier said walking out of the room. 

“I don’t like this plan,” Dutch announced to Arthur. 

“Doesn’t sound like a choice,” Arthur rolled his eyes placing a hand on his bandage. It still hurt profusely. 

“No it wasn’t. It was actually Bill’s idea, but we have to make due on what we got. Wish I could let you see how Sean’s going to look though, it’s going to be hilarious,” Dutch laughed slightly at Sean’s expense. 

“Wish I could see you all dressed up,” Arthur smiled. 

“I’ll get a picture of us taken when we’re off the boat in case you’ll ever see again,” Dutch promised. Javier cleared his throat to announce his and the other’s presence. Someone handed him a bread roll. 

That first bite felt like his mouth had orgasmed. He hadn't eaten in so long, or that’s what it felt like. The bread roll was gone before he realized it, and he’d missed some of the conversation being too entranced in it. When he finally finished eating it he heard the younger couple’s snickering at him. 

“You looked like a raccoon eating stolen food Arthur,” Karen laughed next to him. Someone coughed nearby. Muffled slightly by fabric. 

“Damnit! Does anyone have another handkerchief I can have?” Micah bitterly said. 

“You have everyone’s. Suppose you’ll have to buy more when we’re on land,” Bill told him. 

“FINE.” Micah grumbled irritated. 

“Is everyone clear on the plan?” Javier interjected getting annoyed. 

“Could use a refresher,” Bill sheepishly said with Javier sighing. 

“You push Arthur in the wheelchair, Javier and I walk around like I’m his prized whore, Dutch doesn’t speak to anyone, my darling can waltz out in her stunning outfit, and Micah...exists with his prognosis,” Sean spoke for Javier. Faintly he could hear Micah growl. 

“All that blood on your hands and rags are working in your favor mi amigo,” Javier agreed and he assumed Micah was the one to audible shift around. 

“Let’s just go,” Micah growled leaving the room. 

Javier helped to put more bandages on Arthur. Some were annoying, and some were painful. From what he could tell and feel most of his body was wrapped up. Arthur’s mood shifted into a foul and short tempered one at some point during this. 

Bill was helping Dutch get on what he needed to get on. The two muttering curses often. Sometimes hearing an ouch from Bill after Dutch would gasp in pain. Though with some trial and error they managed. 

Karen was cooing Sean as she helped him get dressed and beautified. She said things like that he should have been born a woman. That he was so beautiful as well. 

The plan worked well and they all made it off the boat. It was nice to feel the breeze and smell the salty ocean air. Bill led Arthur to the side of the docs to really feel the sun and smell the air. He really appreciated that. 

These past few months have taken its toll on him and those around him. He hoped that it would get better soon. As selfish as it was to him he would even only share a happy future with only Dutch. Have a home with a garden in the front to always be able to smell the spring and summer flowers. A dog to keep him company at the house while Dutch was working the stables. Raising Jack together since both his mom and dad are gone. Well...John was awol. 

All this pain and suffering couldn’t be for nothing, could it?


	16. Sean and John?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wondering the coastline city

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have tested out of entry level Spanish. I don’t have too much vocabulary that’s why, but my grammar is a lot higher than entry...even if used wrong. 
> 
> I actually wrote this the same day as I posted the other chapter. Decided to space it out. I’m still ill and running on fumes essentially.

The salty-sweet air in his face was not enough for him. He wanted more of it, all the time. It was peaceful, and he never got enough peace in his entire life. Not even when he was mostly dead was he at peace. To him it was too soon when Bill began pushing the wheelchair again off into the the city this time. The smells of the food and flowers filled his nose as they traveled down the street. There was still the smell of pollution, but Arthur didn’t notice it as much. 

“I ditched my outfit quickly. My accent will give me away instantly because I keep hearing people say they have to fuck a train soon...so I assume there are some differences in language,” Javier greeted them from the side. He sounded cheery likely because they weren’t wanted for various crimes in this country. 

“Any ways we could make money to get back cuz I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here,” Bill grumbled above him, ever the cynic. They used to say Arthur was the cynical one too. He doesn’t know why but he laughs for a few seconds. 

Arthur couldn’t think it would bad to live here besides the difference in language. The place smelled wonderful so it had to look like the paradise they wanted. He wanted to try whatever he was smelling first. Dutch was to his right sighing thinking the same thing as Bill. 

“Sean could always seduce a few men for some cash,” Karen offered Sean as tribute. The Irishman made a huffing sound, then there was the sound of a smack. “You men are pigs. Just smile and laugh and you’ll be fine.”

“Seriously Sean it’s not that hard,” Arthur chuckled at him causing Karen to join the laughing. 

“What do you know about seducing men Arthur!” Sean had to of rolled his eyes at him. Arthur and Karen started cackling at that one. Even Dutch laughed at that one. He had to of muffled it though. 

“You really are blind amigo,” Javier started laughing. 

“Am I the only one who didn’t know besides him?” Bill asked above him. 

“A lot of us made bets years ago, remember?” Karen finally calmed down. 

“Fine I’ll go in the bar!” Sean stomped off leaving the rest of the group to their laughter. Micah had joined at some point, but remained mostly silent with a few coughs. 

Sufficing someone that’s horney wasn’t a difficult thing. People tend to forget that humans are just animals capable of more thought. Urges to fuck are mostly animalistic. All you really have to do is look in their eyes to see if there’s a chance. If there’s the chance then begin the mating dance of talking, showing off, flirting, slight touches, and changing colors. 

“Ten dollars and I’ll get John to make out with me because he’s here,” Sean came out from wherever he was to propose. 

So this is where John went…

I guess he really wanted a change of pace. I really do miss him. We have to tell him that Abigail is dead. Even though there are other people to raise Jack within the gang he shouldn’t be orphaned. When we were younger I remembered that he used to have big dreams, but running away to a dive bar it sounds like he lost hope. 

Dutch brushed his hand through some of the loose hairs on his head. Most of it was trapped by the bandages for his head wound. If Arthur had to guess, Dutch needed to do it to reassure himself more than Arthur. He reached up and took Dutch’s and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“Yeah, just go do it!” Arthur snapped at him. 

Nobody made any conversation  
because it was too painful to. 

Arthur had nearly died, they were in a foreign land with no money, not everyone was in this land, Micah was dying, and they had no idea how to make money to do anything. It wasn’t like they could be outlaws here. The land was too civilized for that. Even if they tried they’d probably be caught shortly after. Maybe this place would become their happily ever after, but maybe not. 

Micah was overcome by a coughing fit and fell to the ground. Dutch helped Arthur off of the wheelchair and Micah was placed in it. Some of the unnecessary bandages were taken off of him and given to Micah to sop up the blood. 

“¿Están bien señor?” A bystander asked presumably Javier. (Are you all ok sir?)

“Sí, pero mi amigo es muy enfermo. Lo es muy malo…” Javier answered the bystander. (Yes, but my friend is very sick. It’s very bad.)

“Lo siento. Ehhhh…¿nessistan trabajar?” (I’m sorry. Uhhhh...do you all need work?)

“¡Por favor! Gracias, nosotros son de Estados Unidos. Podemos usarlos la dinero para las boletas,” Javier begged the man. (Please! Thank you, we’re from the United States. We could use the money for tickets[back to the US])

“De nada, de nada. Vinen a la theatre de circus. Estaré este,” the stranger said walking off. (Of nothing, of nothing. Come to the the Circus Theatre. I’ll be there.)

{I didn’t look anything up too, and guess what? I still didn’t test out of entry level Spanish!}

“We got work so we won’t…” Javier slowly stopped talking as he saw something. Dutch turned to it as well. 

“Sean and John are practically almost fucking in the alleyway,” Dutch whispered in Arthur’s ear to let him know. 

Like I said rabbits. They multiply like viruses. 

“Damn, why do I miss all the really cool watching things?” Arthur laughed quietly trying to imagine the maiden Sean making out with John in his mind. 

“Would you rather be deaf?” Dutch asked rhetorically. That was an important question to think about, and the answer was no since he was already used to being blind. He’d never hear Dutch’s silky voice again if he was. On the bright side if he was deaf he’d never have to listen to a faith and money speech again. 

John’s shocked scream broke him out of his stupor. “What are all of you doing here?” John asked coming closer. He could hear Seans fake girly laughs. “And playing dress up...minus Micah. Like shit, is he dead?”

“Micah’s alive,” Bill stated with the most audible eye roll humanly possible. 

“I didn’t like the dress up idea,” Dutch quickly said for his own pride. Arthur wished he could see it, but he imagined that he looked sexily sleek. The cloth was very soft from what he could feel. 

“I was enjoying the show. Man I wish I had a whiskey right now,” Karen laughed at John and Sean. 

“Perverts! How are you Arthur?” He must of seen a lot of the remaining bandages covering Arthur. 

“I’m okay, but please come back with us. We all miss you,” Arthur cut straight to the chase much to most of the gang’s dismay. 

“No. I’m a free man, and me and this lovely lady have a date to get back to,” John told him to Arthur’s disappointment. 

“Quit being a little whore in front of your family John!” Sean slapped him. The echo from it was deafening to Arthur. Someone hit the ground soon after and he had to assume it was John. I’m too much shock. “I still want my money.”

“Worth every cent!” Karen shouted disrupting the street. 

“Very hypocritical to say that Sean,” Javier told him. 

“Whatever, let’s just take him with us,” Dutch commanded everyone. 

“We need to head to the Circus Theatre. A job is waiting for us there. We’re the only foreigners here so I assume they’ll recognize us,” Javier said taking the lead on where the group needs to go since he’s the only one who’d know where to go. 

Arthur burst out crying his eyes out on Dutch. He doesn’t know why or understand why it happened. Snapping at Dutch when he asked him if he was alright. They let him be after that. 

When John came to he helped them around, but guided them back to his apartment first to spend the night. It wasn’t big. There was no dinner, and no booze to drink. He went on the porch to sit and smoke when he thought everyone was asleep. 

Arthur wasn’t happy with the way he was acting. His behavior was wacky. Didn’t know exactly why, but it started when he woke up from almost dying. He’d burst out crying for no reason a couple more times, laughed for absolutely no reason, and snapped at people for nothing as well. It made him feel like he was losing his mind. 

The cigarette was plucked out of his fingers. Someone sat down in another chair. “I can’t be around that stuff anymore cowpoke. I’m guessing you came out here to sulk as well,” Micah coughed. “Don’t worry, my mouth is covered constantly.”

“Yeah, I came out here to mope as well,” Arthur admitted to him. 

“Figured. I don’t feel like much of a winner. Always believed that there were winners and losers at life, but not anymore. There’s just trying, and not trying. I’m going to be dead soon. Shoulda tried to break the cycle like my brother. You know take life slower, but I guess that was never meant to be. But you’ve been given a second chance at that.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Despite all the pain and suffering you have a chance to start your life over and live normally, or as normal as you and Dutch could get. I won’t, not even if I wasn’t sick I wouldn’t do it. I’m that fucked up Morgan.”

“Then try to dedicate the rest of your life to try and do something nice for someone else. Maybe you might find some peace in death knowing that you did something selfless,”

“I-I...Do you know how close you were to being dead? Didn’t that scare you?”

“Yes it scared me, but I do know what being dead is like. I could see again. Almost enjoyed it enough to where I wanted to stay, but I kept hearing Dutch cry and I couldn’t stay. I had to live, but I keep acting odd for no reason no so I’m not so sure if I should have chose to keep living,” he wiped a tear away. 

“My brother hit his head hard like that. That’s around the time he got out of this life. He said he had to choose to live as well. For months his emotions were insane, and his personality changed. Think it’s just the head injury. I’ll try to do what you said about doing something nice. I’ll try, and all I have is my word,”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” It comforted Arthur knowing that he wasn’t the only one to see what he saw and went through what he’s having to go through. 

“Try to get some sleep. It won’t be good for your head to be sleep deprived,” there wasn’t any concern in his voice, but he tried.

“Alright then, goodnight,” Arthur stood up from his chair and headed back inside the small apartment. Almost as soon as he laid down Dutch circled his arm around Arthur’s waist. His arm pulled Arthur impossibly closer to him. Arthur wrapped his hand around Dutch’s and fell asleep like that.


	17. I love telling stories through dialogue too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking about money, and faith if you can squint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in way too much dialogue in my stories, but I really love characterization through it. Woulda put out another chapter sooner if I hadn’t been in a reading binge lately. I have two options from the end of this chapter: starting the beginning of the end of the story or revamp the conflict again by throwing Colm back into the mix. I’m not sure. 
> 
> American Horse with no name has been stuck in my head.

Arthur woke up before the rest of the gang. His hand was still wound around Dutch’s. Warmly smiling he brushed his thumb over his hand. Thinking about it he wanted to sleep with Dutch like this everyday and never again be alone in his bed. The arm around his waist pulled against him tighter. He had to love that they showed their love in simple things like that. 

His mind drifted to the job that they’d have to do, and wondered what they wanted some foreigners to do in a show. Picking up shit off the floor maybe. Though it was more likely that they were looking for more acts for the stage. Gunslinging could be one, and with Arthur’s blindness they’re wouldn’t be any flinching or fear when a gun was pointed at something directly next to him. It saddened him that it may be too dangerous for him to return to America because of...his wife…

By god did he not enjoy his wedding. He didn’t remember the reception, but he never wanted to kiss her again. She wasn’t a great kisser. Then again he was in love with Dutch so that put quite a damper on things. 

“Morning Arthur, how’d you sleep?” Dutch whispered in his ear. His voice was still heavy with sleep. The man could use a cup of coffee before he turned into a grouch from withdrawal. Coffee withdrawal *is* a bitch. 

“Had a hard time getting tired, you?” Arthur answered turning to face Dutch. The older male let his waist go long enough for him to turn around so he could rest his arm on his hip. 

“In spite of it all I was out like a light,” he paused for a moment, “It’s been a long few weeks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Arthur murmured to Dutch touching the soft silky fabric of his outfit. 

“We can talk later in privacy. I’m sure you want to talk too,” Dutch brought his hand to cup Arthur’s face and kissed him lightly then rubbed his thumb soothingly on Arthur’s face. The younger man took his hand and placed it over Dutch’s and had to keep himself from shedding a few tears. He really wanted to talk as well. They separated when they heard someone else stir, but it was a silent promise between the two. 

“So where the hell do we need to go?” John yelled out paying no heed to the sleeping mass of people. Something was thrown at John, “HEY!”

“It’s too early,” Bill almost cried out. Never was the morning person. It was only a few of the gang members who were. 

“It’s 10am assholes so get up! By the way what the hell happened to everyone!” That’s right…they hadn’t told John anything yet. Dutch got up off the ground to face John head on for the news. 

“Son, this is going to be really hard for you to hear, but...a lot of us were killed. Abigail was gunned down along with others. We ran into you by accident. I know that you’re just helping us out by obligation, but you need to come back for your son. We’re here because Arthur was kidnapped and forced into an arranged marriage as like a mail order groom. Got hit on the head along the way. Micah as you see is clearly dying. We all had to make sacrifices to be here right now, and-“

“Hosea and you will think of something…” John interrupted Dutch. There was an awkward silence that filled the air. The tension stung until he heard John whimper. “Oh god! You’re not lying-Abigail and Hosea’s dead! My son! Why am I such a fucking moron!”

“I’m sorry it’s true. Truth is sad most of the time. I tried to shelter most of the gang from it. Tilly and you especially since you two joined when you were only 12. The others know how sadly true the world is,” Dutch told him. Arthur presumed that Dutch was holding a crying John. 

“I was sold as a prostitute when I was 14. My parents said that they needed the money for my brother’s education, and I couldn’t carry the family name,” Karen said blatantly. 

“I was kicked out of the army because I was caught having sex with other men. They wanted to hang me and the other guy on the spot,” Bill admitted. 

“My family disowned me for thinking of leaving the country,” Sean said. 

“I was forced to play poker when I was young before my father passed. Nearly was murdered by both him and the other players multiple times,” Arthur said. 

“Anytime me and my brother showed any caring for anything living my father would rip it away from me and my brother by killing it in front of us,” Micah weakly said. 

“You’ve heard my stories already,” Dutch tried to sooth John. “I need you to remain strong right now and help us all out. That way you can see your son again.”

“I have some money saved up here already, but yes,” he cried. “I wanna see my Jack again.” 

Arthur assumed that John fell sobbing into Dutch’s arms by the way he cooed him. At the very least John has a family who still loves him despite his baby mama being gone. John sniffled and walked around the room. 

“What’s that?” Karen asked. 

“This is all the money I’ve gotten pickpocketing and robbing whores. It’s a lot easier to pickpocket here than in Saint Denis. Robbing is easier too because there isn’t as many guns involved,” John chuckled a little bit. 

“That might be enough to get us all back over to the states,” Javier said. The ruffling of the cash quite apparent that he’d counted. 

“I don’t need to leave…” Micah said resigned. “I’m going to be gone soon enough. Using the money for me would be a waste.”

“Dutch wouldn’t even make it off the boat after that stunt he pulled,” Bill interjected. Seemed like the group was trying to cannibalize the money. 

“What?” Arthur asked standing up from his seated position. 

“We nearly burnt Saint Denis to the ground. With all the firefight Dutch and all the other gang leaders involved are the most are the most wanted men in the country-“

“Enough Bill!” Dutch silenced the room and paused. “Now isn’t the time for everything at once.”

“Then when is the right time?” Arthur spoke softly trying to find purchase in his surroundings. 

“That’s what I wanted to talk about later with you,” Dutch sighed. He was probably rubbing the bridge of his nose. The coffee withdrawal didn’t help. 

Arthur sighed as well running a hand through what he could of his hair. It was becoming increasingly difficult being out of the loop, but part of himself resigned to it and walked out onto the balcony like the night before. He lit himself a cigarette. 

The nicotine rushing through his lungs relieved some of his stress and anxieties. Withdrawal hadn’t been so kind to him as well. Just like the night before the cigarette was picked out of his fingers, disappearing from his world. The only other person that quiet to leave to the balcony was Micah…just like last night. 

“Didn’t you remember what I said last night about this shit!” Micah growled plopping into his seat wheezing. 

“Because I ain’t told anything no more I’m too stressed not to. How’re you holding up?” He changed the conversation to Micah. 

“Not well,” the dying man trailed off. “Nothin’ floats by me anymore too. They think that they’re doing it for our sake, but let’s be honest it’s for them and not us, otherwise… they’d tell us and not hide it.”

“Guess I never thought of it like that. Wish I never kept anything from the people I’ve done that to,” Arthur spoke his thoughts. It felt like Micah was his journal/ Hosea at the moment. 

“Too late for that now, least you’ll have more than a life then me,” Micah had stood up and the railing creaked. 

“What’s left of it anyways…” Arthur paused. 

He’d been closer to death then he’d thought possible multiple times. That last time he was sure that he was going to be a goner. It felt like-well he was being lured into death. 

“Saying that you’re going to be plannen to die soon cowpoke?” He could hear the smile in Micah’s voice and cracked one of his own.

“Not anytime soon. Think Hosea’d never let that go. I just mean the quality of my life,” Arthur explained to him. 

“I think I had a good life despite it all.-God I’m glad that the house is soundproof those maniacs in there are fighting over the money,” Micah and Arthur flinched when something hit the door. 

“I’m gonna bet that John’s the only one going back to the states. Karen and Sean will go to Ireland, and Bill and Javier will stay here,” Arthur proposed. 

“Twenty on John disappearing again, Karen and Sean eloping in their cross dressing outfits, and you and Dutch staying in Europe,” Micah agreed to their betting. The two laughed plotting out the details of their betting until Javier came out as well. 

“I can’t stand them right now!” Javier said irritated with everything. 

“Do you know who’s going where yet?” Micah bluntly asked wanting his money right away if he won. 

“...Karen and Sean are going to Germany to plan out what they want to do next. Bill and I are going to Mexico deciding that we still want to be outlaws. You’re staying here. John’s going back to the states to get his son then go to Canada to meet up with Dutch and Arthur,” he sounded very stressed like he was going to flip out very soon while saying that. 

“Damn it!” Micah slammed a few dollars on the table with Arthur laughing. 

“We were betting on what was going to happen,” Arthur laughed picking up his money. The door creaked open again. 

“We need to leave Arthur. Our boat leaves in less than an hour. John’s taking us back to the harbor because his boat leaves soon as well,” Dutch gently too Arthur’s hand to help guide him along. 

“Awwww you changed out of whatever you were wearing,” Arthur lamented playfully before saying low enough for only Dutch to hear, “I was looking forward to pulling that off of you.” 

The only answer he got was Dutch choking on his breath.


	18. That’s the way it is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things come to those who wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Finals week to all my fellow dying collage students! I haven’t been able to type because of that and trying to think of an ending that justified the story. However, I couldn’t do anything but story book ending...eh...more like a faire tale threw up for the ending. Anyways the writing this last chapter was difficult for me because it was the last chapter. I didn’t want it to end, but as it strew further and further from cannon the harder it became to write, but I hope that you all enjoyed it.

They made quick work of getting to the docks and onto the boats. Hugging John goodbye was hard because they may never see him again. The boat ride was nice. The salty air was refreshing. He still had some mood swings. From what Micah said they wouldn’t go away, but they get easier and less intense over time. 

On their cabin bed they made out for the first time in awhile. Holding Dutch against him like an anchor to reality with innocent touches, deep kisses, and promises for the future. Their innocent touches turned less innocent ending with Arthur on top of Dutch. 

Leaning down gently planting a kiss on what ended up being the side of his nose. “Ready?” Arthur asked Dutch. The older man’s arms were wrapped around his back. 

“Yes,” Dutch said with hidden pleading behind his facade. Sliding himself in slowly he listened carefully to make sure that Dutch was alright. 

Dutch moaned below him and wrapped his legs around Arthur’s waist pulling him in closer. The man could be impatient at times. 

“Eager?” Arthur teased turning his head to the side knowing what effect it would have on his lover.

“Oh shut up Arthur, and fuck me,” he could feel the eyeroll burning into his face. 

“Hmmmmm,” Arthur mused bottoming out and stopped moving. “I think I’m good like this.” 

“Come on Arthur,” Dutch purred squirming a bit. “Quit teasing me already.”

Arthur leaned down humming in amusement when he started thrusting to hear Dutch’s wanton moaning. Dutch cut off from moaning too loudly by leaning to kiss Arthur passionately. He didn’t want to draw their neighbors suspicions. 

It had taken some of all the charismatic and negotiation skills that Dutch, Hosea, and Trelawny had taught him, but he managed to convince Dutch to bottom in the end. Arthur took pride in finally being able to use the skills correctly. 

Dutch kept back from a burst of laughter when he saw that shit eating grin Arthur wore when he realized he won the argument. He rode it off as a cough when Arthur questioned him. 

Right now he wouldn’t have it any other way than for Arthur to be on top of him. It drove him insane with pleasure. A brief thought of how many men Arthur had topped before ran across his mind, but buried it in the back of his mind considering his own escapades. However, Dutch had to admit Arthur was better then himself in bed. 

Each thrust hit him just right. If they weren’t mortal they stay this way forever in each other’s arms. 

Dutch’s hands smoothed over the muscles of Arthur’s chest. Lightly pinching Arthur’s nipples as his hands went. The younger man moaned loudly into the kiss. Vibrations wracking their bodies as they grew closer and closer to their releases. 

Arthur’s hand snaked down, quickly working on jerking Dutch to his release. His thrusts were growing erratic as he was chasing his own release. They couldn’t keep kissing as they panted harder and harder. Dutch came with a yell, both startling and arousing Arthur into his own release. 

“Next time,” Arthur panted. “Can you not yell... in my ear…”

“Can’t promise that,” Dutch gruffly laughed. “That was really good.”

Arthur smiled and let Dutch pull him into cuddle. “Maybe you should have more faith in me then,” Arthur mused humming. 

Dutch chuckled at his own words being used against him. 

“Do you think it’s over?” Arthur asked concerned with everything that had gone one. 

Dutch sighed, “I do believe so. I hope so. If it isn’t we’ll deal with it then.”

“Alright,”

“Anyways goodnight love. I’ll be here in the morning with you,” Dutch kissed his forehead lightly. 

“I love you too, and goodnight,” Arthur nuzzled into sleep. 

The rest of their trip was uneventful except for their sex. They made it to Canada no problem. Sending John a telegram to Saint Denis remains that they’d made it, and that they were to settle into the town of Schizeinopolis. A little home close to the town where John, Jack, and his new wife Mary-Beth ended up living at too. 

Epilogue…

In the end of their mortal lives it had been John to go first. He’d been killed when taming a bull at his and Mary-Beth’s ranch. Little Jack not so little anymore came from the city from his job as a lawyer to attend the funeral. Somehow he managed to miss the draft, but that’s probably because he was a lawyer. 

Both Mary-Beth and Dutch were taken by Spanish influenza that nearly wiped out the world. Arthur was shocked that he wasn’t killed by it considering how weakened he’d been from the illnesses he’d had in the past. He lived the rest of his life with Jack and his family doing chores until his time came to pass as well. 

Surrounded by those he loved he passed peacefully in his sleep as an old man. 

When he opened his eyes he saw Dutch, Hosea, John, and Mary-Beth had eagerly waited for him to wake up. In the corner of his vision he saw Micah smiling by the tree. After the joyous reunion with all of his family and friends he and Dutch went to the town that they had lived in and got married like Arthur had asked years ago. 

All the friends and family that they had cheered throwing beautiful flowers at them, and they all lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite all the pain,  
> The emptiness in my chest,  
> When you were back by my side,  
> I felt complete again. 
> 
> So stay with me,  
> And I’ll stay with you,  
> For as long as we loved each other;  
> These rings are only to show others of our love, and not just ourselves anymore.


End file.
